


Circling Their Own Black Hole

by Meddalarksen, victoriousscarf



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Mob, Incest, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 78,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cast out by his family for a massacre he didn't commit (his brother did), Thor is on the run from Laufey's wrath. He runs straight into Tony Stark whose father is barely dead and is known for making spur of the moment choices that haunt him for far longer. </p><p>On the other side of the law, Steve Rogers is starting to learn he should never have become a cop while he hopes that the energetic man with the deep eyes he ran into isn't a mobster like his father had been before him.</p><p>(1920s AU, sprawling characters in all walks of life and plenty of mobsters with all sorts of weapons.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Black Mulberry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I Shall Not Survive You

Thor Odinson was not having a good night.

Except that he couldn't really remember the last time he'd had a _good_ night persay, one where there wasn't stupid amounts of violence or that his brother had at least looked at him in affection.

But waking up while it was dark out with his head feeling like it was going to split open currently took the award home for worst night in a while. With a groan, he sat up and realized it was so much worse than he had realized or expected.

There was blood under his hands, on the front of his shirt, and several bodies surrounding him, splayed out and very dead. He gagged, trying to swipe the blood off his hands. For the life of him he could not figure out how the men around him had died, or why.

Entering the alley and coming to a stop inches from where the blood had spread, his black suit spotless though rumpled, Loki looked at Thor with wide green eyes, his breathing ragged as though he'd been running for blocks.  "What have you done?"

"Me?" Thor gaped at him, still sprawled out on the ground and trying to unbloody his hands.

Loki took a half-step back from the blood and gore, "You have to get out of here before anyone comes."

"I didn't do anything," Thor protested again but he finally got up on his feet, bracing himself against the wall. "Loki—"

"You're the only one left standing and you're practically drenched in blood," Loki said, his eyes darting from one end of the alley to the other.  "No one else would believe that.  Run before someone else comes."

"Brother," Thor said, eyes widening. "But—don't you believe me?"

A pained look flashed briefly across the dark-haired man's features, "It doesn't matter if I believe you or not, Thor.  It's not my belief that will matter if anyone finds you like this."

Thor stopped just before he could touch his brother. "Would you not vouch for me?"

"You know I would always stand with you, brother.  But this...." His gaze flickered around, "What am I to say?  I found you the only living soul in an alley of dead men."

"I woke up here," Thor protested. "I swear to you, I have nothing to do with—" he cut off at what sounded like sirens. "Our father—"

Loki darted a near-panicked glance toward the sound of sirens, "Run, Thor, for God's sake, run!  Our father's not going to be understanding about this."

Staring at him in shock another moment, Thor took off down the alleyway. Waiting just long enough to see Thor disappear, Loki slipped into the shadows and out the other end of the alley back the way he had come, smoothing down his suit and hair as he went.

It did not take him long to reach Asgard, the speakeasy run by Odin, buried underneath the streets. Odin came from an old family and the entire restaurant was under the ground, entered through double doors emblazoned with a pair of ravens.

Inside the doors of Asgard was a whole other world, the ceiling reaching high and made out of the natural stone, the chairs gold and plush with cushions, and a long, golden bar that served illegal alcohol along a full wall.

Loki's hair had fallen out of the slicked back style he kept it in, a lock of it hanging across his forehead as he made his way purposefully through the speak, seeking out Odin himself.  When he had reached the stairs downward he had been sure to make his appearance a bit more haphazard and looked, once again, as though he had arrived in a hurry and was only then trying to put himself to rights.

Odin looked up in surprise from where he was sitting in his usual chair at the far end of the speak, several members of the business scattered around him. "Loki," he greeted, and frowned in confusion. "What has happened?"

"Father," his green eyes darted to the other men present as he smoothed his hair back in place, his normally pale visage even more so, "might I speak to you more privately?"

"If you wish," Odin said, pushing himself to his feet and ignoring the way his bones protested.

Standing a respectful distance away, Loki waited for the older man before slipping into the backroom, "There's been a massacre."

"A massacre?" Odin repeated, Loki suddenly having his complete attention.

Loki nodded, his hands shaking slightly until he clasped them together, "Thor was there, Father.  He was covered in blood and ran when he saw me."

"Thor?" Odin asked, eyes widening. "Surely you were mistaken. He would never have run from you."

Loki raked a still trembling hand through his dark hair, shaking his head, "Normally I would say you're right.  But this—" He drew a steadying breath that didn't seem to work, "This wasn't exactly normal, now was it? There were men dead all around him and he was drenched in their blood."

"Are you truly so certain he could do these actions?" Odin asked. "Who were the men?"

"Thor has not...he has not been himself for some time and the man I saw in that alley," he paused and shook his head, "I didn't know him.  The bodies all looked to be from the Jotunn gang.  I believe that Býleistr was among the dead, and the cane I saw could have been none other's than Mimir's."

Odin froze, mind clicking through those points in rapid succession. "If he has gone after Laufey," he said and stopped. "We are already facing too many problems with the death of Stark. We cannot afford a full war."

"What are we to do?" Loki asked, watching Odin carefully.

"If it was Thor," Odin said and looked like he hated the words. "We have to condemn the killings. It is one thing to fight it is another to be at each other's throats. Are you quite sure he has not been well?"

"I am certain of that.  He has been," Loki paused, searching for the right words.  "Angrier, frustrated over a lack of action, more reckless in his behaviors.  He's never been cautious, but his actions have bordered on endangering himself and those around him for weeks.  I expected to be with him, to talk him away from whatever he was planning, but he went out without me this night."

Odin considered him before he nodded. "I had seen him become more restless. I just had never expected him to go this far." Even though his only remaining eye looked hopeful still that Loki was wrong.

"Nor I.  If I hadn't seen the alley with my own eyes, I doubt I could have believed it.  But there is no doubt in my mind now that it was Thor," Loki murmured, running a hand over his eyes, wearily.

"Are you utterly certain?" Odin demanded.

Loki's eyes narrowed at that, "Do you honestly believe that I would come to you and tell you that I thought that Thor had murdered Laufey's men in an alley if I _wasn't_?"

"I do not wish to believe these things of my son," Odin replied. "I must ask."

Biting back the first response that came to mind, Loki sighed, backing down from his anger and nodding, "I understand.  And I am as certain of this as I am of anything."

"Then we will have to take action," Odin said though the words obviously pained him.

Loki drew a deep breath, "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing now," Odin said, shaking his head. "Lay low, and be careful. If you are the only one who saw him there you may be in danger."

"Alright.  If you need me to do anything further, Father, you know I won't hesitate to do so," Loki assured.

Odin paused, thrown by such assurances. "That is very good to hear, Loki," he said. "I am glad of it."

He paused for a moment, "Do you wish me to stay tonight, or may I head home?"

"Where you wish," Odin said, already thinking of other things. "Be sure that you are reachable."

Loki nodded once, "I shall be at home if you need me." He needed to be away from Odin and let himself calm down after realizing his plan had worked.

"Of course," Odin said, striding off and already calling for his inner circle.

Loki left the speak and made his way across town to his single-bedroom apartment.  Once he was inside, the door locked, he leaned his head back against the door and let a slow smile spread over his face.  It had worked.  He had no idea how that had worked, he'd been planning it for weeks but the fact that it had gone over as smoothly as he could have asked for was a surprise.

He pushed off of the door, crossing to his kitchen and pausing when his eyes landed on the photograph that was framed on the table by his couch.  It showed the two brothers, Thor's smile wide, Loki's thinner but nearly as bright.  Changing his route he picked the image up, considering the way they fit, a twinge of guilt at what the plan meant for Thor.  He wanted his brother gone, completely, and that was exactly what would happen when Laufey discovered what had happened and who was blamed for it.  His hand tightening on the frame, Loki abruptly hurled it across the room, watching the glass shatter as it hit the wall.

He whirled, yanking a chair away from where he'd placed it in front of a bookshelf, not caring where it fell, though he heard a lamp topple as the chair collided with the end table instead.  Pulling books from the shelf, Loki tossed them almost haphazardly toward where the picture lay as well.  He paused, hand on the spine of a particular red volume and his fingers came to rest around the pages of the volume before he hurled it to join the others rather than actually rip it to shreds. 

Attention shifting to the green vase that had appeared in his apartment a few months prior after a visit from Thor which he had promptly filled with red and yellow roses and sprigs of basil, he considered shattering that as well before he turned on his heel and slammed the door to his bedroom.  Digging through his closet he scatted the clothes around the room, finding the ties he sought and cursing when he couldn't even shred one of them—the quality was far too high.  Finally he located the box he thought he had hidden and pulled it out, throwing the ties in and returning to the living room to toss the books in, careless of how they landed, the vase, flowers emptied into the waste bin, followed and he almost winced when he heard it crack.  The photograph followed and he stalked through the apartment, pitching things in as he paced through the rooms until it was full enough that he could barely close it. 

He sealed the box and kicked it into the back of his closet, raking his hands through his hair.  He caught sight of himself in the mirror over his dresser and he snarled, throwing a shoe at it, shattering the mirror.  As much as he wanted Thor gone, he was already wondering if he had taken it too far.  There was no way his brother would survive this.

o-o-o

With a groan of frustration, Tony's head hit the desk in front of him, a tumbler of his father's best old whiskey within reach of his left hand. Luckily the bastard had left a store of good alcohol when he died or Tony would have no way of understanding even half of Howard's books.

In fact even the whiskey was no longer helping. "How did you get this into such a mess?" Tony asked the wood his nose was smashed in to.

Pepper Potts knocked on the doorframe of the office, "Mr. Stark?"

"Miss Potts," he said, not raising his head. "It's after hours. It is way after hours."

"Yes, Mr. Stark, it is.  But you're currently talking to a wooden desk, which makes me wonder if leaving you after hours is a good idea."

"I've made worse decisions at all hours of the day," Tony said, propping himself up again. "Hours won't change a damned thing."

Pepper arched an eyebrow at that, "Dare I ask what you've found?"

"Nothing," he said, trying to shut the books and shuffle them together. He'd always known, from the safety of the East coast that his father was dirty and corrupt and maybe with his fingers in too many pies but he had never actually guessed.

"Is there anything you need, Mr. Stark?"

"No," he lied again.

She looked skeptical at that, "You have a scheduled appointment at the film studio tomorrow."

"Does that mean I need to be awake and functional at a certain time?" he asked, having utterly forgot.

"Noon, yes," she responded.  "Shall I send the car to your home?"

"Please," he said, slamming another of Howard's books shut. The very number of them gave away the fact he wasn't quite honest.

Pepper's gaze flickered around the office at the number of ledgers, and she nodded, "The car will be there at eleven thirty, then."

"Always a pleasure, Miss Potts," Tony said, rubbing at his eyes with his hands.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark," she replied, inclining her head to him.

"Are you heading home now?" he asked.

"Unless there's anything else you need?"

"A ride home?" Tony asked, a shade hopefully.

"That I can certainly do," she offered him a smile.  "Come on, let's get you home."

"Thanks," he said, stacking the books and locking them away in the safe. "The funeral is the day after tomorrow, isn't it?"

"It is, two in the afternoon," she confirmed. "The flowers are prepared to be sent the day of."

"Good," he said, running his fingers of both hands through his hair. "Thank you."

"Of course, Mr. Stark," she held the door of the office open for him.

"What would I do without you?" he asked as he walked through, still trying to tame his thick hair down.

"Never get any sleep and probably forget all your appointments, she answered, following him out and heading for the main door.

"Yeah, and manage to trip into the sewer on my way," he added, this time catching the door for her.

She laughed as she stepped through, "Probably.  So it's a good thing you have me."

"Might as well have someone," Tony said, looking back at her so he almost walked straight into the man walking down the street. He steadied himself with one hand on the other man's shoulder before either of them could trip.

The blond police officer he'd run into caught hold of Tony to steady him as well, taking a half step back for balance and looking down at him, "Oh, excuse me."

"Yeah," Tony managed, blinking up and then jerking upright and hands going back to his hair. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

On the other side of the officer, his partner, who was a good foot shorter, snorted. "Yeah, 'cause it's so hard to see a six foot guy with shining blond hair."

"Logan," Steve glanced at his partner and shook his head before turning back to Tony.  "It's fine, I obviously wasn't paying attention either."

Tony blinked again, as if his attention was snapping back to a vocal level. "Yeah, well, no harm right? You're the immovable object here," and Logan laughed, shaking his head.

That earned a grin from the blond, "So that makes you the unstoppable force?"

Tony quirked up a brow. "Don't you know who I am?" he asked, imperious but also surprised, as if the answer should have been obvious.

"Based on where we're standing and your suit?" Steve asked, "You're Mr. Anthony Stark."

Tony's grin was like the sun coming out. "Then you should already know I'm an unstoppable force."

That actually earned a laugh, "You're right, I suppose I ought to know that."

"Well, next time you'll know," Tony said and actually knocked the back of his hand into the officer's chest before he tried to turn and imperiously walk away before he realized he had no idea where Pepper's car was.

Pepper slipped her arm through his, using it as an excuse to subtly turn him toward her car, nodding slightly in that direction, bidding the officers a good night.  Steve watched them go, looking vaguely bemused.

Tony leaned against Pepper. "Please, please don't let me mock officers to their faces again."

"Was that what that was?" She arched an eyebrow at him.  "He didn't arrest you or complain about it, so you should be safe."

"It's tempting fate," Tony said instead. "Just don't let me open my mouth and we'll be fine."

"Tony, if I could keep you from opening your mouth you would already know," Pepper answered simply.

He paused a beat before laughing, shaking his head. "Alright, point. Just get me home."

Logan was still laughing at Steve as they watched the pair head for the car. Steve shook his head before shoving Logan's shoulder lightly, "Oh, leave off.  It wasn't that funny."

"You ran into Stark's kid," Logan said. "That's pretty damn funny. Everyone knows his dad was crooked."

"Well, maybe the son'll be different from his old man, then," Steve said, though he didn't sound like he believed it himself.

"And tomorrow the sun will rise blue," Logan said. "Things like that run in the blood it seems."

Steve looked back to where Pepper had pulled away, "Which just means further problems on the streets, though I guess on the other hand it's better than a power gap."

"For the love of god, Rogers," Logan said, walking away. "Make up your mind about something."

"I'm working on that, Logan," his partner replied.  "A gap in the underworld would cause more problems than to have someone step into whatever it was Howard Stark was up to."

"We have enough gangs to let one go down," Logan said. "Besides, you got all moony eyed at him."

"Moony eyed?"  Steve glanced at him, looking skeptical, "Really, Logan?"

"You didn't see your face," Logan countered.

"You're saying I went 'moony eyed' over someone who ran into me on the sidewalk and who probably just inherited a gang.  That sounds intelligent."

"No one ever said you were smart, Rogers," Logan said, tone dry as he took a slanting staircase down.

"I like to at least try to be," Steve offered, following his partner down, glancing around.  "Where are we going?"

"Someplace you'll hate," Logan said easily enough, nodding to the doorman and stepping inside.

"Oh not again," Steve sighed, stepping through behind Logan.  He froze when he saw the performance taking place on the stage at the front of the dimly lit establishment.  He caught up to his partner again, sliding into the chair across from him at a well situated table, "You've got to be joking."

Logan laughed at his face. "That's the second time tonight, Rogers."

Steve groaned, "Logan, we're supposed to be on patrol, not, not _here_."

"See, that's your problem though," Logan said. "It's a waste of energy to be out patrolling the streets, hoping to stumble on crime. It's much easier to stake out a place you know crime is going to happen. Though," he paused and grinned again. "There are other benefits too."

Steve muttered something under his breath, startling slightly as a lithe man, his dark curly hair loose and his grin bright even in the darkness draped himself over Logan's shoulders.  He wore just enough to be decent but too little to be anywhere that called for propriety, "Logan, it has been too long since you have been here."

Logan tilted his head back and his smile had changed completely. "But you know I'll always come back."

Kurt's hazel eyes darted to Steve briefly, "And you brought a friend this time."  He stepped around, perching himself cross-wise in Logan's lap and all but curling around the other man, smirking at the wide-eyed look Steve was giving them.

"Friend is a relative term," Logan replied, hands going to his waist and holding on. "How's business?"

"Oh, you don't want to know that," Kurt purred, tilting his head to rest it on Logan's shoulder, still considering Steve.  "It's been profitable, though."

"Any questionable men pass through?" Logan asked, fingers curling tighter before relaxing.

"Every man in here is a questionable man, who else comes to a whorehouse?" Kurt replied.  "But Tyr was in again yesterday.  No one of any real note today, a few people who are lucky enough to afford to be able to sit and watch the show, but not much more than that."

"Tyr?" Logan repeated. "The Asgardians have been damn quiet lately. Did he do anything?"

"Met with some people I didn't recognize, had a drink, stuck around after his meeting for a while.  And no, I didn't hear anything of the meeting, they were rather careful to avoid having any of us near them during it," Kurt said, nuzzling against Logan's throat.

Steve finally spoke, looking at his partner incredulously, "You come here for information?"

Kurt's lips quirked into a smirk, "Among other things, that's what he comes for, yes."

"I come for many things," Logan shrugged. "Information just happens to be the most official."

"I'm pretty sure this isn't what the chief had in mind when he sent us out tonight," Steve muttered.

Kurt grinned, "Oh he's adorable, Logan.  Wherever did you find him?"

"I got assigned him, god help me," Logan said, propping his chin against Kurt's shoulder.

That earned a laugh, "But he's so adorable." Kurt repeated, "Why would they assign him to you?"

"The suits may be more sadistic than I first realized," Logan said and a slow grin spread across his face. "Or they got sick of his big-eyed looks and wanted to corrupt him a bit."

Steve shook his head, "I am not that bad."

Kurt grinned, the expression sharp, "You either angered someone or they wanted you corrupted if they partnered you with Logan."

"I would resent that if it was less true," Logan said, leaning back and shrugging, one hand resting on the small of Kurt's back still.

Kurt trailed his fingers over Logan's chest, "Well, I wouldn't have you any other way."

Logan was still grinning but his expression had changed slightly. "And we accept what we are given."

"I assume since you brought the adorable one along, you're still working?" Kurt murmured, scraping his teeth very lightly along Logan's jaw.

"Yes," Logan said, catching Kurt's chin.

Kurt hummed his disappointment, offering Logan a reproachful look, "I haven't seen you when you weren't working in too long."

"Things have been busy," he replied as if that was a fully acceptable excuse.

"It's not as though we're ever _really_ closed," Kurt replied, pulling his chin away from Logan to rest his head on the other man's shoulder again, his curly hair brushing Logan's throat.

"I know," Logan said and hesitated before kissing the top of his head and moving back. "Let me know if Tyr shows up again."

Kurt huffed at that, but nodded, "Yes, yes, I’ll let you know if any of the Asgardians or Jotunns show up."  He pushed himself smoothly to his feet, the movement fluid as he left Logan's lap, "Come see me some time when you're not working."

Logan made a noncommittal sound that could have been a promise.

Kurt walked away with a little more swing in his step than was strictly necessary as he made his way through the men there, pausing to greet a few others he knew.  Steve watched him go before looking back to his partner, "Oh this seems sustainable."

"Shut up," was all Logan said, pushing himself back to his feet and lighting a cigarette—which he abhorred but had no cigars—before they even reached the door. That earned him a long look from the blond, but Steve didn't say anything more on the subject, turning to continue their route.

o-o-o

Dawn wasn't quite over the horizon yet when Darcy dragged the garbage back into the alley. Muttering about the pay—or almost non pay as the case felt like and duties, she almost tripped right over the form with his back to the alley wall, legs spread out. "Hey," she started and froze when she got a good look at the man, his blue eyes snapping open.

Blood covered his forearms and shirt front and probably the back too and she shrieked before clamping a hand over her own mouth.

The door opened again, Jane stepping out, with a crowbar in hand, "Darcy?"

She pointed frantically with one hand at the man in question who groaned, trying to stand.

"Oh my god," Jane yelped, backing up a half step before bracing herself to swing the crowbar if needed.

"Please," he said, holding one hand out. "I mean you no harm."

"You're covered in blood!" Darcy yelped. "You must be a mad murderer and you're asking us to trust you mean us no harm?"

"I have killed no one tonight," he said, shaking his head. "I... I woke up like this."

"Did you go to an all-night party?" Darcy asked, adjusting the cloche on her head and backing up to be behind the reach of Jane's crowbar. "Where they drink moonshine and then black out?"

"I do not drink such filth as moonshine," he replied with a small frown between his eyes.

"You're still covered in blood in an alley and you think we're going to believe that all that blood's yours?"  Jane paused, considering what she'd just said, "All that blood isn't yours is it?"

"I do not believe any of it is," he admitted after a beat. "But I have killed no one tonight either."

"Yeah, sorry, but you really look like the killing type," Darcy said, now firmly behind Jane's shoulder.

"Yeah, I’m thinking you should just keep walking," Jane said, hands tightening on the metal in her grasp.

"I was trying to," he said. "But I have been walking all night and there is nowhere for me to go."

"What about home?" She asked, something shifting very slightly in her stance.

"I don't have one anymore," he said and he tried a smile and it looked exhausted and hurt and covered in blood.

Jane paused at that, lowering the crowbar but still keeping a grip on it, "Tell you what, come inside, get cleaned up and we'll figure out what else."

The man paused, clearly confused. "Thank you."

"Yeah, but give us your name," Darcy said, flipping her hand out toward him, still behind Jane. "So that when you kill her for her kindness I can report you to the police."

"I am Thor O—" he started and stopped. "Just Thor I suppose."

"Alright then, just Thor," Jane said, smiling slightly, "come on in."  She pushed open the back door again, calling inside, "Eric, we've got another guest."

"Yeah, he's a murderer we think," Darcy added helpfully.

An older man, his blond hair nearly faded and thinned out came around the corner, "You think he's a murderer and you invited him in, Jane?"

Jane shrugged, "He needs to clean up, and some place to sleep."

Thor glanced over at Eric, shifting his shoulders slightly. "She's actually not convinced yet," Darcy said. "I am though, he looks like a beast and I don't trust him."

Eric looked at the mountain of a man who had come through the door and blinked, "Well you found him in a back alley, trusting him probably isn't wise.  Come on, son, you may as well get a shower."

"You're still all crazy," Darcy muttered, sitting down at a table and crossing her arms over her chest.

Eric shook his head at her and led Thor to the washroom, telling him that he'd try to find some clothes that might fit the younger man. Jane sat down across from Darcy, "Just watch, he won't murder us in our beds and you'll be wrong for once."

"I am never wrong, and you are rarely right," Darcy shot back. "He's literally from an alley covered in blood!"

"It could have been a wrong place wrong time sort of thing," Jane protested.

"How many people do you know whose wrong place involves that much gore?" Darcy countered. "He looks like he would break your spine without sweating."

"He doesn't look like he'd want to though," Jane answered, tapping her fingers on the tabletop.

"Was it in his eyes?" Darcy mocked, leaning forward. "Because I'm pretty sure he's ready and capable."

"Ready and capable doesn't necessarily preclude not wanting to," Jane retorted.

"If you say so," Darcy shrugged and looked up hopefully when Eric came back. "What do you think? Is he totally a mountain of murderous intent?"

"I don't know yet," Eric replied.  "I think I wouldn't put it past him, but I also don't know if that's what happened here.  He seemed pretty adamant he didn't remember anything that happened."

"You are both fools," Darcy informed them.

"Really, Darcy?" Jane asked, "I think claiming you woke up like that would be the weakest alibi and explanation that could exist, personally."

"Yeah unless he thought we were all stupid," Darcy said, crossing her arms and leaning back.

"You're worrying too much," Jane insisted.

"You're not worrying enough," Darcy insisted.

"Either response is a bit premature," Eric said, looking between the two women.  "Caution's good, but not too much caution."

"You people just do not read the newspaper do you?" Darcy asked, shaking her head.

"Not really," Jane admitted and Eric shrugged slightly.

"You should really make that a habit," Darcy said. "He didn't give us a last name, did you notice that too?"

"Not a lot of people who come here do, Darcy," Jane pointed out.

"Also, not usually covered in blood," Darcy protested as the door swung open and Thor stepped through, blond hair hanging around his face and shirtless. Darcy's eyes almost popped out of her head. "Or he just cleans up really well."

"I am sorry," Thor said. "There were no shirts that fit."

Jane's jaw dropped and she looked him over, "No shir....um, Eric?"

Eric got to his feet, "We may have some sort of dressing gown or something.  But no promises.  We'll have to try and find you a shirt today."

"Thank you," he said and Darcy looked like she wanted to protest the idea.

"I mean if you want a dressing gown now, that's not a bad thing, but it's just us around," Jane offered, earning a glance from Eric.

Thor blinked once and then smiled, well aware of the looks the two women were giving him. "We have food too," Darcy offered, holding up bread and cheese and Thor's eyes lit up.

"I do not remember how long it has been since my last meal. Thank you."

Jane motioned to the empty seat at the table they were at as Eric slipped away to try and find that dressing gown no matter what the girls said. Thor hesitated a moment before sitting, looking at the two before drawing food toward himself and inhaling it.

"What brought you to this part of town?" Jane asked after a couple of minutes.

Thor paused between one bite and the other. "Are you actually chewing?" Darcy asked and that question was easy to answer.

"Yes I am," he said and pulled the bread around the bowl of soup he'd dished up and swallowed almost in one gulp. He considered Jane again and realized he had no excuse, no story. He was never good at them. Loki was.

The thought felt like a punch to the stomach because Loki had told him to run. He would have to call his bother and soon. Surely it was just a mistake. "I came here because I had nowhere else to go," he said finally.

"Nowhere at all?" Jane's voice held compassion as she asked, still trying to figure out what had happened to him.

"I do not know," he said, not looking up. "I was told there was nowhere."

Jane paused at that, glancing toward the doorway where Eric was holding the largest bathrobe he could find.  She spoke first, "Well, you can stay here as long as you need."

Thor's eyes widened and he dropped the bread that was still in his hand as Darcy yelped. "Are you quite certain?" Thor asked.

Jane shrugged, "For now, yes.  I mean, I'm hoping you don't need to be here for too long but for a couple weeks at least. We have space."

He paused, watching her, certain that either he would die for something he did not do or be accepted home in short order. "Thank you," he said and frowned, realizing he didn't know her name.

"Oh, she's Jane Foster, I'm Darcy Lewis," Darcy cut in, waving a hand. "Though you may only call me Miss. Lewis."

"Of course, Miss Lewis," Thor said, giving her a smile as he looked over and she stopped.

"Actually, never mind, just call me Darcy."

Jane laughed, "And the man still standing in the doorway is Eric Selvig."

"It is wonderful to meet you all," Thor said, surprise still evident in his features. "I would willingly offer any help that I may with any task."

"Well, we need to get you a shirt first," Eric said, stepping into the room and draping the robe over the edge of the table.

Thor offered him a smile, something shadowed behind his eyes as he took the robe and slid it on, ignoring the soft sigh Darcy made.

"And then, well the kitchen opens in a couple hours and we can always use an extra pair of hands," Jane offered easily.

"Kitchen?" Thor asked, head tilted to one side as he picked the bread back up, finishing the meal he had allowed himself to eat, not wanting to tax their resources with his appetite.

She nodded, "We run a soup kitchen."

Thor blinked once, the idea foreign to the life he led as a son of Odin, of old money and old blood and fighting on the streets at night. He went from opulence to violence and rarely anything in between. "Ah."

"So, we'll get you some clothes and you can give us a hand with that, see how it goes," Eric said.

"Of course," he said, beaming at them and Darcy blinked.

"Yeah, just smile like that and they'll adore you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Welcome to our latest adventure into the Avengers fandom. This has been an idea we've been talking about for a long while, but we saw Thor: the Dark World this last weekend and decided it was time.
> 
> The United States in the 1920s is a period that both of your authors have done extensive research on, Victoriousscarf more so, and we are more than willing to explain reasonings behind things in the fic if needed. We also love to talk characters and characterizations--feel free to ask.
> 
> As to this actual chapter: the flowers in the bouquet which Loki throws away all have a meaning in the Victorian Flower Language (which of course he knows and uses to try and get ideas past those around him). These three specifically have the following meanings: red rose--(passionate) love, yellow rose--jealousy, and basil--hatred.
> 
> We will have occasional cameos from other Marvel characters, but we're not certain yet who all will be showing up besides those listed in the tags. Our mobster/mafia/1920s fics always seem to get away from us.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the first installment!


	2. Dried White Rose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Death is preferable to loss of innocence

Loki entered Asgard, looking around and hoping he looked better than he felt.  He hadn't slept the night before and when he'd gotten up that morning he had deep circles under his eyes.  His hair and suit were in perfect order, but his pallor was worse and though he tried to carry himself with his usual poise, he felt that he was falling short of it.

Noticing his entrance without his brother, Sif walked away from her three usual companions and planted herself in his path. "Thor is not with you? Odin has been quiet all morning and silent when asked. I had assumed he would be with you at the very least."

Loki tried to brush past her, "I haven't seen him since last night."

Sif's hand darted out to catch his arm. "Then where is he?"

He pulled away from her, almost stumbling, "I don't know.  I'm not his keeper."

"Don't give me that now, Loki," she snapped. "You're almost always together, whether you like that or not."

"Odin wants us all to sit down," Fandral said, appearing at Sif's elbow and tugging her away. "Come along, both of you."

Loki slipped away from both of them, settling down near Odin's left hand, leaving the seat Thor always took open. Odin gave him a quick and harsh look at that, before turning back to where the golden bar was converted to a table ever Sunday. After all, Odin's people did not spend their Sunday's in church but in his company. Loki dropped his gaze to the table rather than meet his father's gaze after that.  As Odin apparently had yet to announce anything he thought it best not to take Thor's seat yet.

Everyone else sat, short snatches of conversation soon dying out as they waited for Thor to either arrive or Odin to speak. Slowly, Odin pushed himself to his feet, leaning his hands against the table. "Last night, Laufey's gang was subjected to a massacre." A murmur rippled through the table. "All signs point to Thor having done it."

There was a round of protests, the table erupting in disbelief.  Volstagg's voice carried above the rest, "That's not possible, Thor wouldn't have done that."

Sif was on her feet. "He couldn't have done it on his own, not that many men. He would never have even tried." Suddenly her eyes snapped to Loki and narrowed.

Loki met her gaze, his own eyes narrowing at the accusation in them, "Are you implying something, Sif?"

"No," she ground out, eyes going back to Odin who was sitting stony-faced. "But surely you must see—"

"I will not risk this family in war," Odin snapped and she sat like her legs had given out. "Not even for Thor. If he has made this mistake he must deal with the consequences."

"But what if he has not?" Fandral asked.

"Then it will come to light, I'm sure," Loki replied.

Hogun made a sound that seemed like disagreement and Volstagg shook his head, "If he has not and we have left him to this, he'll end up dead for something he didn't do."

Odin's face stilled. "Would you rather we go to war?"

Volstagg receded slightly at that, finally shaking his head, "No, sir.  But shouldn't we try to verify that it was Thor?"

"And how do you suggest I do that?" Odin roared. "Thor has run away. That alone all but equals his guilt."

"Father," Loki spoke quietly, calmly.  "No one here is arguing that fact. We just wish it weren't true.  As it is, we will find a way to deal with that realization."

"Of course we will," Odin said with narrowed eyes at Loki, the fact never being in question. For the moment everyone else fell silent, looking between their food, Odin, and Loki and carefully not looking to where Thor was supposed to be. Loki met his father's eyes steadily for a long moment before dropping his gaze and backing down.

The meal passed in a silence that was charged with anger and worry, Sif barely taking her eyes off Loki. Loki finished his meal and glanced at Odin, "Do you need anything of me, Father?"

"No," Odin said, voice still tight.

He nodded once and excused himself, leaving the table and heading for the door of Asgard. Sif caught him on the way there, Fandral behind her. "This was your doing, somehow."

"Are you accusing me of somehow causing my brother to end up without protection?" Loki's eyes narrowed at them, seeing Volstagg and Hogun coming to join them.

"Yes," Sif said.

"How dare you," he snarled. "You honestly think that I would harm him so much?  I love Thor more dearly than any of you. But he's grown more reckless, and though I never thought I would say it, I do not know that he didn't do this."

Sif slammed a hand to the wall next to his head. "You may love him more _dearly_ than any of us," she agreed and Fandral rested a hand against her shoulder, almost pulling her back. "But you are jealous of him, of his position, of his friends and I do not think even love would stop you from seeking power."

Loki's temper snapped at that and he shoved her back away from him, "You know _nothing_."

"I know more than I think you care to admit," she snapped back, taking a stumbling step back and catching herself.

"Do not presume to accuse me of costing my brother his life," Loki snarled.

"Even if it is the truth?" she demanded, having already accused him of something else as well.

"Be careful with your accusations, Sif.  Odin cannot afford to lose both his sons," his eyes narrowed, refusing to acknowledge her other implications.

"Perhaps you always loved Thor wrong," Sif snarled, stepping back further and ignoring the look Fandral shot her.

Loki stiffened at that, his voice taking on the chill of an arctic winter, "And perhaps you look for the worst in me when it simply isn't there.  Good day, _milady_."

"If that's the lie you tell yourself," she called after him.

"Sif, leave it be," Volstagg said.  "Angering him further, especially if he is the one who has arranged this thing, isn't wise."

"If this is his fault and Thor dies, I'll kill him with my bare hands," she snarled.

"And we will help you, but he will hardly admit it because you yell at him," Hogun replied.

Considering, Sif nodded. "Besides," Fandral said, even though his voice was strained. "He's too used to Thor who'll hit first. You have to be more cunning to get anything out of him."

Volstagg nodded his agreement with Fandral, "You have to trap him in his lies to find any truth from that one."

"Then we'll have to see which traps we can set," Sif said, crossing her arms over her chest.

o-o-o

Thor had beamed throughout the morning rush, handing out bread with surprisingly gentle hands and his blond hair pulled away from his face. Many had entered and gaped at him, disarmed by his size and smile. Darcy had muttered something about the murderer handing out food but she did it quietly.

Jane had watched him, pleasantly surprised that he was doing so well.  She slid up to him after the morning rush, offering a smile, "You did good this morning.  Why don't you take a break for a while?"

"Are you certain?" he asked, looking over and beaming again.

"Sure and later we can go shopping!" Darcy added from where she was tying her apron back on. "You need more clothes."

"It's probably safer not to go shopping with Darcy, but she's not wrong.  So yes, take a break and we'll see about going shopping later," Jane replied with a nod.  "We've got everything covered out here for a while."

He stepped for the door and stopped, turning back around. "Do you have a phone?"

Jane blinked, "Um, what?  Oh, yes, in the front room, the back corner near the fireplace."

"Thank you," Thor said and strode off, Darcy sliding up to Jane.

"So, if he wants to use the phone that means he must have someone, right?"

Jane nodded slightly, "Technically, yeah.  At least that's what it usually means."

"I just wonder who it is, if he insists he has no one," she said, flipping her hair back from her eyes and going back to the front.

"He said nowhere, not no one," Jane reminded as she followed the other young woman rather than give into her urge to eavesdrop.

Thor paused in front of the phone, a frown between his brows before he checked the doorways automatically for eavesdroppers before leaning down to dial the number.

Loki was sprawled on his couch in his shirt sleeves, having divested himself of his tie, jacket, and vest as soon as he had locked the door.  A lamp had gone the way the photo frame had the night before.  He startled when the telephone rang and cursed his luck, expecting it to be Odin or someone else from the gang as he shoved himself to his feet and picked up, "Yes?"

"Brother," Thor said, voice low. "I had hoped you would be home."

He fell very still and considered hanging up but kept steady and reminded himself that he needed to convince both sides of his innocence in the matter, "Thor, where are you?  Are you safe?"

"I am fine," he said but did not answer where he was. "Please, tell me, how do things stand now?"

"Thor, I, I'm sorry," his voice caught very slightly.  "I told Father everything, he...he's withdrawn his protection.  I’m so sorry, I thought—"

"Why?" Thor asked and he thought his voice broke. "I did nothing."

"I don't," he cut himself off, drawing a breath that he hoped sounded shaky over the line.  "Býleistr and Mimir were among the victims."

Thor stilled, though Loki could not see him through the phone line. "Surely," he started and swallowed thickly.

"I don't know what to do, Thor," Loki's voice held a note of panic and he made certain to keep his expression away from a smile, knowing how those telegraphed through the voice.  "I've tried to speak with him, but he... Just be careful.  Once Laufey hears that Father—" He swallowed, "Just be careful."

"Will you be careful?" Thor asked.

"I'm always careful," Loki replied.

"Be more careful," Thor said, voice almost breaking and his fingers were shaking against the phone. "Because I can't look over your shoulder anymore."

Loki fell silent at that, feeling something wrench loose within him, fracturing and cutting at his resolve but he had gone too far to withdraw, "You have my word I will be more careful in everything I do than I have ever been."

"Good," Thor said and he tried not to sound afraid. "And—and I have found somewhere safe for the moment. Even if they are threatening to take me shopping."

"Appearing in public today is probably safe still," Loki allowed.

Thor thought about the people passing through the kitchen, willing to sell out anyone for the least bit of money or food. "Loki—" he started, desperately afraid this was the last time they would talk and it was through a phone line.

"We'll see one another again," Loki said, though his voice broke on the last word like he was uncertain he believed it.

"If you believe it, I suppose I will have to," Thor rumbled. "Even if I told you I loved you now you'd never believe me, would you?" he asked.

He froze completely at that, "What?"  He managed to regain coherence almost immediately, quashing any emotional response he might have to that, "Of course you do, Thor, just as I love you.  We're brothers after all."

"Even then, you never say it as if you mean it," Thor said.

"How does one say that and not sound like they mean it?  Isn't the point of saying it to mean it?"

"With you," Thor said, voice dropping again. "It's never just that you say something."

Loki leaned against the wall, still holding onto the phone, "What is it with me, then, Thor?"

Thor looked back at the doorway, checking it and feeling time slip through his fingers but there was never anyone he'd rather talk to. "You say anything that comes to your mind, that you think a person wants to hear. Just because you say something does not make it the truth."

"You don't believe that I love you," Loki said simply, his tone almost hurt.  "Know me by my actions then, Thor. I would go to Father and convince him that I had committed those murders for you, if you but asked."

"You would not," Thor said and just sounded tired.

"You believe nothing I say, do you?" Loki murmured.

"I never know anymore," Thor said, resting his forehead against the wall. "I used to."

"Why not do so again?" his younger brother asked, tingeing his voice with a hint of desperate hope.

"I don't think I'll have the time," Thor murmured and straightened. "Stay safe, brother."

Loki's hand tightened around the ear piece of the phone, genuinely desperate for the call not to end, "Thor, I—" He caught himself before he said anything damning, "Please stay safe yourself."

Thor had planned on hanging up and stopped. "You will be alright, won't you?"

"I," he felt a genuine knot of panic tighten around his throat as the physical consequences of his power play became more real.  The thought of this being the last he heard Thor's voice sent his mind spiraling, "Of, of course I will."

"That's right," Thor said and smiled at the wall. "Because you always are."

Loki allowed himself a small smile that he didn't feel, "You know me well. Never anything less than alright.  Take care of yourself, Thor.  I’m not there to watch your back."

"I may yet succeed in watching it myself," Thor said. "Take care of yourself, Loki," and hesitated before clicking the phone down.

"Thor?  _Thor_?" Loki swore, slamming the receiver back into place and curling tightly around his knees, letting his forehead fall against them.  He tried to catch a calming breath, reminding himself that everything he was doing was necessary, even as he felt himself fragmenting and the seams the held his facade together unravelling.

o-o-o

Clint made it to his third drink before he finally started to feel in a decently drunk place, still functional enough to do what he was supposed to be doing the whole time, but the world was fuzzy around the edges. When the bartender passed again, asking him if he wanted a refill, Clint's smile was sharp. "Sadly, no, because it really does seem like I have you on selling illegal alcohol."

Natasha swept into the speak with back up even as the bartender backed up away from Clint and reached under the bar for a weapon,  "Well, would you look at this?"  She picked up a glass of alcohol sniffing at it, "That is furniture polish if it's anything."

"Sorry," Clint said, watching the man's motions carefully and his own gun already drawn. "But I wouldn't do that."

The man lowered his hand away from the weapon, holding his hands up as Natasha strolled over, her red hair brushing her chin and her black skirt swishing at her shins, "I think closing this place for the swill they're serving alone is a public service, much less the violation of federal law."

"It is pretty bad," Clint agreed, giving the man a lopsided grin.

"Didn't stop you having three glasses of it," the man muttered.

Natasha shook her head, "I really wouldn't speak if I were you.  You served a federal agent three glasses of alcohol.  I'd say that's more than enough evidence."

"Any my word holds up very well in a court of law," Clint said, rising, though he quietly asked god to help any court of law that took his words. "Come along then."

They hauled the bartender out of there, Natasha's lips curling into a small smile, "Our record seems to be holding strong still."

"Because it's an amazing record," Clint said, pushing his way into their office, wobbling slightly.

"You are so lucky drinking alcohol is not a crime," Sitwell said from his desk, not looking up.

Natasha pointed at Sitwell, indicating that she agreed with him, "He's also damn lucky that he hasn't permanently blinded himself drinking that swill yet."

"You're supposed to support your partner," Clint said, pointing a finger at Natasha. "Next time you can go in and flash your smile and leg at the guy then."

"I don't have to get drunk to bust a speak," she pointed out to him.

"I don't have to," he said, sitting down a shade harder than he meant to. "I simply choose to."

"That makes it better?" Sitwell asked.

"You realize you're going to poison yourself, if you haven't already," Natasha said, perching on a desk and cleaning under her nails with a sharp letter opener.

Clint shrugged. "I'll be fine, unless the government starts poisoning the reserves."

"Don't put it past them," his partner cautioned.

Clint shrugged, affecting that he was unconcerned as he tilted back in the chair far enough it almost fell over. Natasha snorted, "Don't get yourself killed, Clint, it's so much trouble to try and find a new partner, and you know they'd break before they went on a raid with me."

"That's not giving them a very long rate of survival," Clint said to the ceiling.

"Well, they might last through the first one, _maybe_ ," she allowed.

"Such a sweetheart," Clint muttered and suddenly someone kicked one of the legs of his chair out and he had to catch himself quickly.

"I think she is," Phil said, staring down at him. "You're not actually supposed to get drunk, you remember that, right?"

"He always forgets that, you know that," Natasha replied, lips curving upward as she finally glanced up from her nails and the letter opener.

"I should tattoo it on your arm," Phil said, shaking his head.

"He'd just cover it up to make it easier to ignore," the redhead said, smile sharp.  "Besides, we still took the speak down."

"So that depends on if you believe the ends justify the methods," Phil said and Clint waved a hand.

"They very much do, sir."

"Don't call me that," Phil said, automatically.

Natasha shrugged a shoulder, "It gets the job done, and by the second or third glass there's no doubt it's what they're serving."

"So I'm really only doing my job," Clint grinned up at Phil, who stared back down at him, entirely unimpressed.

Finally, he shook his head and looked around the office. "It's getting late. You should all be going home soon."

Sliding gracefully from her perch, Natasha, picked up her coat from where she'd dropped it, "And back again tomorrow for the next round."

"Which is not to say those who came in late shouldn't finish their paperwork," Phil said and Clint flapped a hand at him.

"Too tipsy tonight, sir, I'll do it in the morning."

"Don't call me that."

"You're not going to get coherent reports out of either of us tonight, and you know it," Natasha said.  "We'll do them first thing tomorrow, though."

Phil sighed. "I used to have order, you know," and Clint laughed, his head thrown back.

Natasha laughed as well, shaking her head, "And then you were put in charge of us."

"And how I regret it," Phil sighed and Clint stilled for a moment before knocking his foot against Phil's shin.

"No you don't. Your life would be damn boring without us."

"Besides, we've got one of the best records for any pair of agents you've supervised," she pointed out, looking at Phil as she checked her pockets to make certain she had everything.

"God help me," Phil said. "If you're the best I've got."

"Sorry," Clint said, clapping him on the back as he rose and ignoring the long look Phil gave him. "I don't think god had much to do with that at all."

Natasha stretched, laughing again, "We get the job done and that's what matters.  Come on, Clint, let's leave him to mourn his lost order."

"It's probably better for you to loosen up anyway," Clint said with a shrug, following her out the door and Phil raked a hand through his hair, carefully not growling after them. That would be hardly professional.

o-o-o

Jane considered the racks of men's suits in the department store, running her hand over the material of a couple of them, "So a few shirts and a couple suits, right?  And some ties."

Thor was staring at the suits on the racks, certain he had never considered such a concept before. "Yes," he agreed finally. "I do not wish to put you out too much." The very fact they were in a department store was a new experience for him.

"It's no trouble.  Let's start with that and work from there," Jane decided.  "Any preferences here?"

"Dark," he said, considering the offerings again. He could almost hear Loki's derisive laugh at the back of his mind and shook his head. Fingering the material he carefully didn't sigh.

"Yeah, I couldn't see you in a light suit anyway," Darcy said. "Except perhaps grey. What about this one?" she asked, pulling one off the rack that would never stretch over his shoulders.

"Too narrow," Jane said, barely glancing at it and reaching for a larger one that might be closer to the right size.

"If you say so," Darcy said and put it back, Thor frowning at the sizes offered.

"Perhaps a full suit would not be a good idea," he managed after a beat.

"So you're going to walk around in shirtsleeves and a vest?" Jane asked, arching her eyebrows.

"Perhaps," Thor said. "It would not be so uncommon, would it?"

"I mean, I suppose not," she managed, considering the suit coats and the breadth of his shoulders.

"I believe that any jacket would cost more than I am willing to ask for," Thor said, a furrow between his brows before he shrugged it off.

Jane paused at that before nodding, "Very well."

"You act like you've never bought a suit off the rack," Darcy said and Thor stared at her for a long moment before considering a display of ties.

"What are our chances of finding shirts that fit your shoulders?" Jane asked, moving over to join him at the ties.

"It should not be as difficult," he said.

"Alright, so how have you never bought a suit off the rack though?" Darcy asked, showing up at his shoulder. "I mean, you must have been totally swimming in money then!"

"Darcy," Jane chastised, but she couldn't help the questioning glance she shot at Thor.

"Swimming is overstating it," he said instead.

"But still enough you've never bought a suit off the rack?" Jane asked, picking up a patterned tie and considering it before putting it back.

"More or less," he said, not looking over and discarding the idea of any green or gold ties, focusing instead on the red ones, and a few patterned steel grey.

Jane's eyes darted to the red tie in his hands and she just about choked, "Red?"

Darcy looked over too, eyes widening and grinning. "I mean, unless you know what you're doing."

"What?" he asked, looking between them.

"You don't know what red ties mean?" Jane blinked at him, "In that case I might be careful about buying that.  Patterned ones would be safer."

"It is a color I have always worn," Thor said, tilting his head to one side. "Is there such a problem with red?"

"Well, I guess it depends on which society you're part of," Darcy said. "Or if you actually desire other men or not," and was fascinated to see the way Thor choked on air.

Jane blinked twice at that reaction before nodding, "There are other signs of course, but the red tie is certainly a noticeable one."

"I was not aware of that," he said, carefully setting the tie down and frowning before seeing a patterned tie in grey and red. "And this?"

"That should be safe," Darcy shrugged, leaning over the table.

"The pattern distills it, so yeah I think that would work," Jane replied.

"What about a bow tie?" Darcy picked one up and held it up to his neck but he shook his head with faint distaste.

"I do not wear bowties," he said and she tilted her head to one side.

"Really? I think it'd look great on you." But he shook his head again.

"Alright then," Jane said, shaking her head, "no bow ties.  Let's see about some shirts and vests for you to try on."

As they left, Thor slid the red tie from earlier among the other purchases for no reason he wanted to consider except that he liked the color and had always worn it. Jane leaned against the wall by the fitting rooms while Thor changed.  Glancing at Darcy she shook her head, "Every time he opens his mouth I end up with more questions."

"You're the one who invited a stranger in," Darcy said, holding the ties and noticing the red one was still in there. "And he really likes red."

Jane paused at the sight of the tie and shook her head, "Well, yeah I did, but every time he does something else I just get the urge to start asking questions even though I know I shouldn't.  Like where he came from, you know?"

"I'm going with somewhere rich that doesn't know jack about things like red ties," she said. "So probably the other side of town."

"And covered in blood?" Jane's eyebrows rose, "Money, no knowledge of red ties, and covered in blood in a back alley."

"That's not a mystery at all," Darcy said, throwing her hands out. "He's a harmless puppy. We should take him dancing."

Jane blinked at her, "You're the one who told me that he was a mad murderer.  And now you want to take him _dancing_? Which assumes he'd even want to dance, or like to dance, or know how to dance."

"We can teach him," Darcy said, tone breezy as Thor stepped out, having finally found the size of shirt to fit him. "Oh, we are so taking him dancing."

Jane did her best not to gape at Thor's appearance, trying to collect herself again, "We ask first, Darcy."  She turned her attention fully back to Thor, "Darcy wants to go dancing.  Would you like to join us?"

He hesitated, considering them. "Dancing?" he said, unsure about the wisdom of being seen in public. "Alright," he agreed after a beat.

That earned a bright smile from Jane, "Wonderful.  And that shirt and vest look very good."

"Thank you," he said with a beaming smile.

Jane felt her face heat very slightly at that smile, but she returned it, "You're welcome."

When he retreated again, Darcy looked over at Jane. "He's pretty confident, isn't he?"

"Well, we decided he came from money, and the other side of town.  Confidence doesn't seem out of character with that."

"Yeah," Darcy agreed, trying to ignore the women's dresses on the other side of the shop with glittering beads and more fashionable styles than what she owned. "But he could at least pretend to be humble about the fact he's gorgeous."

"I think part of the problem is he knows how handsome he is," Jane replied, shrugging very slightly, her own gaze drifting towards the women's dresses and hats.

"Which is far too much for his own good," Darcy declared and stepped between Jane and the dresses. "We're spending way too much money today already and none of our clothes got ruined with blood."

She sighed and nodded, "We are, and they didn't.  We'll see what we have on hand next month."

"But he did agree to go dancing," Darcy said, brightening. "This is going to be a treat."

Jane laughed, "It's been too long since we went dancing, and it's about time we took an evening out."

"Eric is going to kill us," Darcy decided, considering the look Eric had given them before handing Thor the bathrobe.

o-o-o

Due to no choice of his own, Tony showed up on time for his father's funeral, despite almost drinking himself to death the night before. A pair of shades were firmly on his nose and Pepper behind his shoulder as they walked in. Tony tried not to stare in shock at the number of people, mostly serious faced in long ties and fedoras, already there.

It appeared as if only Rhodey was in a bow-tie as he approached, shaking Tony's hand and saying something they both knew was meaningless about how sorry he was.

"Just glad you made it over from the East coast," Tony said and Rhodey smiled, the expression strained.

"You know I'd do crazier things for you," he said and it was the first time Tony had seen him in months and that was all they could say with so many men Tony didn't know staring at him, sizing him up like a cut of meat to be bought at a butcher's shop.

Pepper's gaze flickered around at those gathered, speaking lowly, "Perhaps we should make our way to our seats?"  Her eyes paused momentarily on Odin before flicking onward to Laufey.  She caught sight of a blond man in a cheaper suit than most of the others wore, keeping near the back by the door, but passed him by with little more than a glance.

"That would be good," Tony agreed, though some people were still mingling. He was just hoping that no one expected him to speak when the door behind them slammed open, Obadiah Stane striding through, a nondescript man in a plain suit close behind.

"Tony," he said, spreading his arms out and dragging Tony against his taller chest the instant they were through the door. Making a muffled sound at the unexpected touch, Tony awkwardly patted his sides before stepping back. Despite the abrupt invasion and touch, Tony was smiling because he remembered Obadiah as the only one of his father's men to ever take the time to speak to him or bother to listen to his young mind rambling on about the things he wanted to invent, twisting pieces of metal around in his hands and making tiny explosions. "It is good to see you."

"Under other circumstances, I would expect," Tony replied because once he had been sent to boarding school he never came back.

Obadiah gave him a smile that made Rhodey take a full step back. "Circumstances are always what they are. And we can always make the best of them, eh Tony? Give it time and perhaps this will work out for the better."

"Work out for the—" Tony started and shook his head slightly. "If you say so."

"I always say so," Obadiah said, resting his hand on the small of Tony's back and sweeping him away. Pepper's jaw dropped and she gaped after them.  She glanced at Rhodey before grabbing his arm and pulling him with her as she followed, disliking the amount of touch Stane had been using.

Volstagg elbowed Hogun, indicating at where Obadiah Stane had entered, the smaller man nodded in response and ran a hand over where he was carrying a concealed weapon should anything go wrong.  Funerals were technically held to be a neutral place, but it was better to be prepared.

Odin ignored their antics though he did not take his eye off either Laufey or Obadiah. After all, Obadiah had been Howard's right hand for years, and was probably the one holding the gang and power together far more than the young pup he was steering around. Odin had already decided the younger Stark was just a figurehead by the time the funeral began, Tony placed front and center of the audience and looking queasy.

The blond at the back door watched the proceedings, his brown eyes sharp as they darted over the assembled people.  He could easily categorize most of them into the gangs they belonged to, and he had a feeling that Stark had been short on legal connections who gave a damn so long as the fortune was still being handled.  It was always a little unnerving to be in what felt like a powder keg, truce for the service or not, but he reveled in the threat of it blowing up. 

Which was possibly how he landed assignments that had him sitting in on known mobsters’ funerals.  He spent a lot of his attention on the new heir to Stark's empire and although, as Odin had, he did not think that Anthony Stark was truly running things, he was not quite ready to put the reins fully in Stane's hands either.  As the service came to an end he rose, staying near the exit and doing nothing more than watch.

The funeral ended and everyone moved toward the reception because even in death it was known that Howard Stark always provided the best feasts in town. Many of the mobs remained in their separate groups as they ate, moving in clumps toward Tony who was looking dazed at the formations of people.

Halfway through the reception, after they had both paid their respects, Laufey planted himself in front of Odin.

Helblindi trailed after his father, staying a pace back and to the older man's right, his brother's place on Laufey's other side left empty. Hogun's dark gaze watched both of them, and he kept himself ready to respond should either present an immediate threat to Odin.

"I do not believe this is the place," Odin said, tone weary and Laufey only gave him an icy smile.

"This is the only place, Odin," he said, standing taller than the already large Odin. His hair was slicked severely back against his head and there were scars on his cheeks. "We shall not speak again on neutral ground and my people are dead."

"Yes," Odin agreed.

"Then you should know I have come to declare war," Laufey said. "For it must have been your people."

Odin paused, eyes sliding over to the men with him, who he knew though no one would ever admit it, were more loyal to Thor than they had ever been to him. "It was Thor," he said, looking back at Laufey, whose mouth thinned. "He has been cast out. I wish for no war."

"So you sacrifice your own son instead?" Laufey asked, one brow going up in a perfect arch.

"He sacrificed himself for the mistake," Odin said instead.

"One man killed all those in that alley?" Helblindi spoke, his voice incredulous.

Volstagg tensed, "You doubt Odin's word?"

Odin's smile was cold. "Perhaps you over estimate your own people, and under estimate Thor."

Helblindi bit back a snarl at that, his entire being tensing like a coiled spring at the implication of weakness attributed to not only his father's lieutenant and low-level men but also his own brother.

Laufey held a hand against his son's chest, asking him to still and be quiet. "If I find your son, Odin, I will kill him." Laufey's son followed the silent instruction, but his expression indicated he would take great pleasure in assisting his father with Thor's death should they cross paths with Odin's golden heir.

"I am aware," Odin said, hoping that his own guards would not take issue with his words. "Better that than a full out war." Volstagg's eyes widened at that and he glanced at Hogun whose expression had turned even more impassive than was normal for him.

"Very well," Laufey said, inclining his head and stepping back, melting away toward the crowd. Helblindi followed close on his father's heels, anger still etched in every line of his slender shoulders.

The blond who had watched the proceedings slipped out after that exchange, heading directly back to his precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so it's been great to see all the kudos (and thank you to our subscribers as well) and we're tossing this chapter up as a pledge of good faith--usually we try to keep them spaced out a bit more time-wise. We will say that as authors we live on words and we really really like to hear what people think. Please drop us a line, we love to talk about the work and the characters or even hear what you liked.
> 
> *On Thor's aversion to bowties: apparently that was not a gangster thing. They all wore long ties. The red tie comes from _Gay New York_ by George Chauncey.


	3. Yellow Lily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falsehood

Striding inside the precinct, Alex crossed over to the board where they had the known mob bosses' pictures pinned, "Stark's kid is definitely stepping into his father's shoes.  Do we have a picture of Stane around here somewhere?"

Logan pushed his chair back toward the filing cabinet. "So is it the young Stark or Stane?"

"Both." Alex answered promptly, "The younger Stark is still getting his feet under him and I think Stane's hoping to just use him as a figurehead, but once Anthony Stark gets his bearings?  He's going to be running that business."

"You're sure?"  Steve asked from where he was seated at the desk.

"No, Rogers, I'm talking out of my hat," Alex replied.  "I'm as sure as I can be having seen the guy at a funeral."

Logan flourished the picture he found of Stane, standing as ever behind Howard's shoulder. Moving over to the board, scattered with photos of know mobsters and lines connecting the families, he removed Howard Stark and replaced him with a picture of Tony next to the photo of Stane. "Any other exciting news from the funeral?"

"Laufey and Odin had a confrontation.  Looked pretty tense, but I didn't get close enough to listen in.  Seems like that could end badly in real short order.  No one there looked happy."  He paused, "Neither of Odin's sons were there, and only one of Laufey's."

Logan pulled out a cigar as he sat, lighting it. "Could have something to do with those bodies McCoy got in. If those two are about to start having a border war, I'd like to know about it sooner rather than later."

"Wouldn't we all," Alex muttered, frowning at the board.  "I'm gonna go see how the autopsies are coming."

"He can't work any faster," Steve pointed out.

"No one asked you, Rogers," came the reply as the other man headed for the coroner's.

"Don't forget the marshmallows!" Logan called after him, shaking his head.

Alex detoured to where he had stashed the marshmallow candies that the coroner liked so much before continuing on his way.  He entered the morgue a short while later, "Hey there, Hank.  You don't happen to have an idea of who any of these guys are yet, do you?"

Looking up and shoving his glasses further up his nose with his elbow, Hank narrowed his eyes at the intruder. "I cannot work any faster, you know that."

Alex held up the bag of candies, setting them down a safe distance from the cadavers, "Not even a little bit?  We need to know, Hank."

Hank eyed the bag and looked back up at Alex before sighing and pulling his bloodstained gloves off. "And to think you're desperate enough to bribe me. Alright, I have some news but don't run off half-cocked with it, alright?"

Alex offered him a grin, "When have you known me to do something like that?"

"Every day of your life," Hank said, tone dry and already pulling the candies toward him. "The news is bad. They are all Laufey's men."

"Damn, I was really hoping you'd say something else.  Any specific identification on them besides that?" the blond asked, looking toward the bodies.

"One of them is Laufey's son," Hank said, eyes down and hands twisting in air.

Alex swore again, raking a hand through his hair and having to catch his hat when he ran into it, "Of course. Couldn't just be low-levels.  Had to be his damn kid."

Nodding, Hank adjusted his glasses again when they slipped down. "It's going to blow up."

"It may already have.  Neither of Odin's sons were with him today, and Laufey's son that isn't on the table over there was," he shook his head, muttering something unpleasant under his breath.

Hank was still wringing his hands in the air. "So what do you think that means?"

"I think it means that if Laufey thinks Odin's people had something to do with it, you're going to end up with a lot more bodies in here."

"Despite my occupation, I really have no desire for that," Hank said and sighed. "I wish I had better news."

"Yeah, you and me both," Alex sighed.  "We work with what we've got though, and what we've got this time is a mess."

"You will be careful, won't you?" Hank asked after a beat, one brow arched as if he fully expected the answer to be something else but hopeful that he would be proven wrong as he so rarely was.

Alex blinked at him for a long moment before offering him a crooked grin, "I'll do my best.  That's all I can promise you."

"You're best is as bad as Logan's," Hank said. "And for some reason other people don't handle being shot as well as he does—though god knows how he manages to spring back so quickly either."

The blond paused for a long moment at that, "I'll be careful.  I promise."

"Just don't get shot," Hank said, turning away and fussing over a new pair of gloves. "No one else bribes me with the proper candy."

"Well, we can't have that.  What would you do without those bribes?"  Alex glanced toward the door and then back to the coroner.

"Indeed," Hank said, not quite looking at him. "Now go away so I can finish and get you official information."

That earned a grin from Alex, who tipped his hat to the coroner and left. Hank sighed after the empty space that had once been Alex, picking up his scalpel again and bending down.

o-o-o

Eric pushed open the door to the speak, the band on stage playing dance music and the floor already holding several couples.  He had insisted on chaperoning, though most of that would be done from the safety of a table or the bar itself.  He held the door for the other three, scoping for a decent table.

Looking around with interest, Thor self-consciously tugged at the vest he was wearing. They had never managed to find him a suit jacket that fit his shoulders and waist at the same time and he had not realized he took bespoke suits for granted. "This place is interesting," he said, looking around at the corners and listening to the loud jazz beat.

"It's one of the best places for the music," Jane replied.  "And the dance floor's spacious enough for a lot of people at a given time."

"And they serve drinks," Darcy added, already bouncing on the balls of her feet, clacking her heels on the floor with the music. "Which, I mean, isn't that surprising really, there's a speak on every corner if you know about those sorts of things," and she watched Thor's face to see if he did, not entirely sure what to make of the tiny smile at the corner of his mouth.

Eric shook his head slightly, pointing to a table that had a good view of the dance floor, "Let's see about setting up over there for tonight, hm?"

"Of course," Thor said but they had barely reached the table when Darcy grabbed his arms and dragged him toward the floor.

"You know how to dance, right?"

Jane laughed, shaking her head, "What'll you have tonight, Eric?"

"Whatever's cheap," he answered with a smile and she nodded heading over to the bar to get them something and letting Darcy have the first dance of the night.

For a moment Thor was distracted watching Jane before the music changed and Darcy pulled him into the dance. For the first beat she tried to back lead, unsure if he actually knew anything before he proved her wrong by twirling her out in a complex set of steps.

Jane watched them from the bar, shaking her head and smiling.  She thanked the bartender and made her way back to Eric, "Well, it looks like he can dance."

"So it appears.  Wasn't Darcy the one insisting he was going to murder us in our beds?"  He asked, sliding his glass over.

"I think the fact that he didn't do so has endeared him to her somewhat."

"Jane! Jane!" Darcy called. "Get over here, you won't believe this."

Jane's eyebrows arched, but she pushed herself to her feet and wove her way over to where Darcy was. Darcy happily handed Thor off to her. "You have got to try this."

"I am 'this' now?" Thor asked but his smile was still good humored.

That earned a laugh from Jane as she stepped into the follows position, "It's Darcy, you get used to the non-human pronouns."

Grinning instead of taking offense, Thor swept her around the room, content to be doing something physical that took his mind off everything else that was happening. Jane moved easily through the steps, following Thor and impressed by how well he led, "You know, I don't think I've danced with anyone who leads as well as you do."

He grinned still, spinning her out and bringing her back in. "I've always been better at physical tasks," he said, almost missing the beat change before catching it.

"I can imagine," she replied with another smile.

"And what comes naturally to you, Jane Foster?" Thor asked, trying to pay attention to the music.

"Curiosity," she replied.  "I like to learn, to imagine things that I won't ever see, and there is so much out there.  I would have loved to be the next Marie Curie, but I think the world can only handle one woman like that at a time.  And I never would have been able to afford that education."

"If you had the money, even now," he said, considering. "Would you go back to school?"

Jane considered that question for a long moment, "I think if I could find a school that would take me, where I could study science and mathematics, I would.  But the question's academic, I run a soup kitchen that barely supports itself I'm not going to be able to hare off to some university."

"It's still good to remember your dreams," he said.

That earned him another smile, "Dreams wouldn't be dreams if we had them in front of us.  So maybe you're right and I should dust that one off every now and then." Thor smiled, softer this time and could almost hear Loki's voice mocking him for sentiment and missed a step. "Are you alright there?" Jane asked, brief concern flickering over her features.

"Yes," he said, recovering quickly and focusing on another set of moves that would hopefully distract her from the question. Jane followed admirably, though she stumbled over a couple of steps that she wasn't entirely familiar with. Thor just beamed at her. "You're doing very well," he said as they settled back into a basic to let her catch her breath.

"Thanks.  I haven't had a challenge following before.  Not sure Darcy has either," Jane admitted.

"I learned with," he stopped before he said Sif's name. "The lady I practiced with often is a force of nature in herself. We would often turn it into a competition." As they did many things, from sharp shooting to learning the Charleston.

Jane laughed, "Well, it shows.  Honestly, you're more graceful than I had really expected."

"I find it is best to catch people off guard," Thor said. "To be the unexpected, exactly because no one expects it of me." He paused, still dancing. "I also learned to follow for she refused to dance with... some of the others and I got bored easily."

"So you can follow as well as lead?"  Jane looked at him, impressed by that revelation, "I'm surprised.  Most men can't."

"Though," he admitted. "It is difficult when my partner is a head shorter than I am. Especially some of the turns." But Sif had flat out refused to dance with Fandral, and as he insisted the only reason to learn to dance was to impress the ladies, Thor had shrugged and took the follow's role with no qualms, though Loki and Sif had laughed at him for a week.

"There aren't a lot of people your height," Jane pointed out.  "But no, I would imagine that's not all that easy."

"There are a few," Thor said and he almost gave up then and there to find the nearest phone because even a day was longer than he usually went without hearing Loki's voice.

"Did you get much chance to dance the follow's part when you all were learning?"

"Not much," he admitted. "But enough to succeed if the occasion ever calls for it. Why, would you like to try it?"

"I think I'm significantly more than a head shorter than you, and I start too strongly on my right foot."  She considered, "Darcy would probably love it though."

He laughed and grinned down at her. "Truly? Not even for a few steps?"

Jane felt her cheeks color slightly at that as she grinned back, "Well, maybe for a few steps."

He flipped their hands easily, still grinning. "Just start with the other foot."

She paused, biting her lip briefly and focusing on reversing her footwork before bringing them up to meet the tempo of the music.

"See?" he beamed. "It is not so hard as all that."

Jane offered him a bright smile in reply, "I guess not, once I remember which foot goes where when."

"You're doing wonderfully," he said and glanced over to where Darcy's jaw had dropped across the room.

Jane's gaze drifted in that direction, "You may have to get her to lead too if that look's anything to go by."  She briefly hesitated before cuing for a turn.

"Then we shall have to," Thor said after he came smoothly out of the turn.

Jane led simple steps and turns until the song came to an end and she stepped back, "Thank you, that was, that was a lot of fun."

He leaned down, holding up her hands to kiss the back of her knuckles. "Of course." She blushed faintly again and pulled him with her back to the table.  Eric watched them approach, his gaze moving from Thor to Jane and back.

"Do you have something you would like to say?" Thor asked, tone calm.

"Did you enjoy the dance?" Eric asked instead of answer the question with what he was thinking.

"Yes," Thor nodded. "And I believe Jane did as well."

Jane nodded, dropping into one of the open chairs, "Very much.  He's a very good lead."

"And follow too," Darcy said, already dragging Thor back to the floor. "Which, by the way, we are doing."

Eric watched them go before looking at Jane, "Just remember you don't know anything about him."

"I know.  He's charming and handsome, though, and it's hard not to notice that.  But he's also got who knows what sorts of secrets and that is not something I'm inclined to deal with," she answered, watching Thor and Darcy.  "But he misses his home and he needs friends."

Once Darcy was content with leading Thor around the dance floor, he dropped her back at the table with orders for more drinks. On his way toward the bar, he charmed matches and cigarettes off people, leaning against the bar and tracing a hand over the wood with a small frown, used to the gold of Asgard.

Turning his head, he noticed a man with a head of floppy hair and dark glasses even in the dim light, looking a shade like a wreck. "You do not look like you are having a good night," Thor remarked, lighting one of the cigarettes and waiting for the drinks. He thought the man looked familiar in an odd way.

"Yeah, funerals do that and Pepper took the key to the office," he said and it clicked into place in Thor's head.

"Anthony Stark," he greeted and Tony gave him a sidelong look.

"Yes?" he asked, tone wary at being recognized so readily in an out of the way speakeasy by a giant of a man. Obadiah had tried to stress to him that he should have a bodyguard and while that confirmed all suspicions about his father, Tony had laughed it off. Now he was questioning that choice.

Thor shook his head. "Sorry. You have one of those faces. I am sorry for your loss."

"Not much of a loss," Tony muttered into the wood of the bar and Thor tilted a brow up but did not press.

"I would buy you a drink, if I had the money for it," Thor said and once again felt self-conscious about the rough vest and shirt he was wearing.

Tony dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table and Thor's eyes widened. "That was not a request for money," he said and Tony shrugged.

"Take it anyway." he said and Thor folded the money carefully into his pocket as a hand landed on his shoulder.

He started speaking before turned around. "I have no interest in—" he started and froze to recognize one of Laufey's lackeys, a low level thug and moron and Victor Von Doom behind him.

"I think there's a lot of people with an interest in you, though," Doom said, cigarette in one hand as he watched Thor.

"What is taking him so long with—" Eric looked over toward the bar and rose quickly.  "Stay here." Jane turned in that direction and promptly ignored what Eric had said, rising and following him purposefully toward the bar.

"I still have no interest in fighting you," Thor said, though he had paled.

"You probably should have thought about that a while ago," Doom replied, taking a drag from the cigarette. "Say, before you killed them."

"I have killed no one this week," Thor said, tone dropping as he noticed the other had a knife.

Doom shrugged. "That's too bad because your dad's throwing you to the dogs then. You have no more protection from him, he told Laufey himself." Tony was paying attention, trying to work the words through in his head and thinking about Laufey as Obadiah had pointed him out at the funeral.

Eric reached them, eyes darting around at them all, Jane close behind him, "Is there a problem here?"

Doom looked over at the same moment Thor lunged, tackling the lackey around the waist and sending the knife skidding off into a corner, Tony falling off the stool where he sat. Jane yelped, startling back.  Laufey's thug responded to Thor's attack with his fists, aiming for the other man's face as much as he could, but settling for his torso when that didn't seem to work, grappling with him on the floor of the speak.

Thor smashed his head against the floor before bolting back to his feet, ignoring the way Darcy yelped and turned on Doom whose eyes had widened in alarm. "Would you like to try and win glory?" he asked and Doom took a solid step back.

"I think it's time to clear out," Eric said calmly, though whether he was talking to Thor or to Doom was unclear.

"Just remember," Doom said, holding a hand out as Tony considered Thor, placing his face with Odin at the funeral and mentally comparing them. "That your family has forsaken you and no one will protect you anymore." He bolted before Thor could even bother taking a step toward him.

Jane looked a bit shaken, her gaze darting from the door to the man on the floor to Thor and finally settling there, "Maybe we should go?"

Thor scooped up the knife that had been dropped, heading for the door. "Yes, we should go."

Tony paused for a moment, looking after them before slapping down a bill that was far too large for what he had drunk and hurrying after them. Jane saw him coming and turned as soon as they were out the door, "What do you want?"

"I have a couple questions," Tony said, though Thor kept walking, stopping abruptly at the sound of a clicking gun. He turned, feeling sick to see Laufey.

"I think we should have a talk," Laufey said, in an immaculate suit and dark tie, fedora tipped over one eye.

"I had nothing to do with the death of your son," Thor said, bracing back and Tony took Jane by the shoulders, moving her to one side. Jane glanced at Eric who set a hand on her shoulder as much to reassure her as to keep her at his side as he shook his head. Darcy slid back behind Jane, watching Thor with wide eyes.

"That's funny," Laufey said, pushing off from the wall he was leaning against. "Considering your father seems to agree you did it." Thor's eyes narrowed. "He told me himself you no longer have protection. So what do you expect to do?" His eyes slid over to Darcy, Jane, and Eric. "It seems you made new friends alarmingly quickly." Jane reached behind her to grasp Darcy's wrist as Eric shifted ever so slightly to place himself between Laufey and the two women.

"And they have nothing to do with this," Thor said, placing himself more squarely in Laufey's line of sight. "They should be allowed to pass with no danger to themselves."

Laufey tilted his head. "I have never understood you," he said. "Coming from Odin and yet so oddly honorable until you decide to massacre—"

"I did not do it," Thor insisted as Laufey continued over him.

"—my men and my son."

"You have another son," Thor shrugged and Laufey surged forward, jamming the gun under Thor's chin. Jane startled forward slightly at that, but Eric caught her and pulled her back murmuring in her ear that she needed to not get more involved.

"You may be honorable but you are a fool," Laufey said. "There is no one who protects you anymore and that means—"

"No, no," Tony said, stepping forward and shoving the shades he wore, even in the dark alley, up his nose. "No, that's not true. He has my protection."

"Stark?" Laufey demanded and Thor's eyes slid over to him in shock.

Eric blinked, putting together pieces and realizing just how deep they'd gotten themselves by taking Thor in to begin with.  Talk of protection and retribution meant at least three gangs directly involved in this mess unfolding before them.  He let go of Jane's arm when he realized how still she'd fallen in surprise at Tony's declaration.

"Yes?" Tony said, assuming his name was a question. "Did you not hear me?"

"Do you realize what you're doing?" Laufey asked, dropping the gun from Thor's neck and stalking up to Tony, towering over him. "If you offer one such as he protection—"

"I am entirely aware of what I'm doing," Tony said, jutting his chin out even though that was an entire lie.

Laufey's smile was ice as he stepped back. "Very well," he demurred, and it made Thor's spine itch. "If that's the way you want this to happen, Stark, who am I to disagree?" He shot another look at Thor who stood still. "You are a fool," he said, poking the gun against his chest but the safety was back on. "And I will kill you. But not tonight it seems."

Touching the brim of his hat with the same icy smile at Darcy and Jane he turned, melting into the night, Victor von Doom appearing at his side as they left.

"What in the ever loving hell just happened?" Jane asked when she'd finally regained her voice.

Thor turned slowly back to them, looking at Tony and deciding that Tony at least could wait a few moments more. "I am sorry," he said, shoulders dropped. "I—did not tell you everything. I should never have gone out with you and put you in more possible danger."

"Damn right you didn't tell us anything," Jane replied.  "We knew it was bad because of how we found you but we didn't know it was like _this_."

He looked down for a moment before raising his eyes again. "Yes," he agreed. "And I am sorry. I did not want to tell you. I—" he paused, wondering how to explain and looking at Tony again before huffing out a breath. "Frankly I did not expect to survive and thought it might be easier not to tell you anything."

"Well you did really well at not telling us stuff," Darcy said, eyes still wide but she stepped forward, out in front of Eric. "But hey, you're still Thor with the stupid attachment to red ties, right?" and lightly hit his chest before taking a quick step back. "That's not changed, right?"

Jane glanced from Thor to Darcy and back, "And you're still the best dancer I've seen in a long while, and you were a lot of help the last couple of days."  Eric made a discontent sound at their responses, but when Jane glanced at him he shrugged slightly and nodded.

Thor looked between them and his smile was bright. "Thank you," he said and turned then to Tony. "I did not expect you to step in."

Running a hand through his hair, Tony shrugged. "Um, I sortta am starting to think I need a bodyguard." Thor's brows shot up. "And, alright, we just met so we'll have to work that out but," he paused again. "I also have no interest in seeing people shot in front of me."

"You may have signed yourself up for far more trouble than that," Thor said, voice grave.

"Maybe this conversation should take place somewhere not on the streets?" Eric suggested, glancing around and not caring for the thought of someone else showing up that evening.

"Yeah," Tony agreed, starting to stride off and Thor almost picked him up when he pulled him back.

"We're just a couple blocks from here," Jane offered.  "It's relatively private there."

"Alright," Tony said. "Though I will need to see home at some point."

"Eric can drive," Darcy said and paused. "Though neither Jane nor I are allowed to on his orders. Apparently we're not very good," and she tossed her head like she thought that was foolish.

"That's because Jane runs into things—"

"That was one time!"

"Twice in one drive," he corrected before finishing what he was saying, "and you drive like you're trying to kill us."

"You exaggerate," Darcy said, flapping a hand as Thor started leading Tony back toward the soup kitchen.

"You turned a corner and ended up on the sidewalk," Jane said, backing Eric up.

"And you run into things," Darcy muttered, offended at Jane choosing Eric's side and Thor smiled, feeling shaky and relieved in his stomach, and still scared that they would wake up in the morning and decide he wasn't worth it, or that Tony would sober up and take his protection away.

But for that moment, he was safer than he had been in days.

o-o-o

Hogun and Volstagg entered the small room off the main hall of Asgard, finding Sif and Fandral already there.  Volstagg glanced over his shoulder as Hogun shut the door and then turned back to the other two, "We have to find some way to get word to Thor."  The large red-haired man spoke, his voice pitched low but urgent, "Odin's withdrawn his protection and told Laufey as much."

"What?" Sif asked, jumping to her feet and Fandral dropped the book he had been reading. "Odin would never—he threw Thor to the wolves?"

Hogun nodded, "He did."

"At the funeral.  Laufey declared war and Odin placed the blame for the deaths squarely on Thor," Volstagg confirmed.  "He's sent Thor to his death."

"We have to find where he is," Sif said, already pacing around the table like a caged animal. "We have to warn him if it is not already too late."

"It is a big city," Hogun replied from his place by the door.

"So we are to let Thor die?"  Volstagg looked at the other man.

Hogun shook his head, "No.  But we are only four."

"He's a big man, surely someone has seen him," Sif said and Fandral was silently considering the wall.

"Do you think he's talked to Loki?"

They all fell silent, looking at the blond. "Would you like to go and find out?" Sif asked.

"Do you think Loki would tell any of us if Thor had?" Volstagg asked, though he sounded like he was behind the idea of asking.

"I think he should be asked," Hogun said, head tilted slightly as he watched Fandral.

"I wasn't actually volunteering," Fandral muttered and Sif only laughed at him.

"Of the four of us you're the only one he's even remotely likely to speak to."

"He at least pretends to like you more than the rest of us," Hogun agreed with Sif. "He does not speak with us if he can help it."

"So you want me to go to his apartment and inform him Odin just about killed his brother and see if he has any idea where he is?" Fandral checked. "Anything else?"

"See how he reacts and if you can figure out how much of a hand he had in this," Volstagg suggested.

Sighing, Fandral pushed himself to his feet. "Alright, alright. If you don't see me, do come looking for my body around his place, would you?"

Volstagg managed a smile at that, "You have our words we shall do so."

"We'll start looking for Thor," Sif said, striding out of the room.

Volstagg and Hogun followed her out of the room and then out of Asgard itself, determining to start from the site of the massacre and work away from there. Running a hand through his hair to try and smooth it back, Fandral headed out for Loki's apartment, Sif turning toward Thor's to see if he had ever bothered to come back though she doubted it.

Fandral knocked on Loki's door and took several steps back as a precaution while he waited for it to open.

There was a long moment between his knock and even the slightest sounds of movement inside.  Loki opened the door, irritation and exhaustion written in every line of his face.  He hadn't slept any better the night before than he had the first night, the circles under his green eyes darker and his complexion more pallid, "What?"

Fandral breezed into the apartment, deciding to go on the offensive. "Have you heard from Thor?"

"Oh, come right in and make yourself at home," Loki muttered before closing the door and deciding to answer the other's questions for now.  "Yes. After I returned home from Asgard yesterday."

"Really?" Fandral asked, surprise on his face. "Splendid! Where is he?"

"He wouldn't tell me." Loki glanced away, shaking his head, "Just that he was fine then."

Fandral paused a moment. "Did you know that Odin saw Laufey today?"

"The funeral is a temporary neutrality," Loki said by way of answer, finally pushing himself away from the door and crossing to his couch but not sitting down yet.

"Odin told him that Thor was his to do with as he wanted," Fandral said, dropping the words between them and watching Loki closely.

Loki paled at that, his green eyes darting to Fandral, expression undefinably sharp, "You're certain?"

"Yes," Fandral said. "Why do you think Odin would give his enemy his son to kill?"

Loki's jaw tensed, sensing a second question underlying that one, but answering regardless, "Because the life of one man, no matter how dear, is better than the lives of many in the war that would no doubt arise otherwise." He sank down on the couch, raking a hand through his dark hair which hung loosely around his face, "We'll all find his price too much, though."

"Of course," Fandral agreed, still watching him. "You have no other ideas why he might have chosen this course of action?"

Eyes narrowing, Loki looked up at the blond, "What other reason would there be?"

Fandral shrugged, stepping back. "I don't know," he said, not wanting to tip his hand to Loki that he had heard their conversation the other night, when Loki had come in with wild eyes and claimed it was Thor.

The dark-haired man rose, "I think it's time for you to leave."

Opening his mouth, Fandral cut off when the phone started ringing. Loki cursed and went to answer it, speaking over his shoulder as he did so, "That wasn't up for debate."  Placing the receiver to his ear he shot Fandral a glare, "Hello?"

Fandral shifted closer to the door but did not open it or leave as Thor's voice came over the line. "Brother? It is late, I should not have called."

Loki paled again, cursing Thor to the depths of hell for calling at that moment, "No, no it's not too late.  Are you safe?"

"Yes," Thor said and laughed, sounding like he still could not believe it.

"Thank god," Loki breathed, reminding himself that he had an audience still present as he let his body relax at that news.  "Fandral came by after, after..."  He hesitated before speaking again, "He says Odin spoke with Laufey.  You are being careful, aren't you?"

Thor's laugh was loud enough Fandral could hear it. "I ran into Laufey tonight."

"And you're," he felt his temper spike, "what in the name of God is funny about that?  You call that _safe_?"

"No," he said, stilling. "Not in the least. He said father had blamed me and he could do as he wished."

Loki leaned heavily against the wall, dragging a hand over his eyes, "Damn their eyes.  How did you get away?"

"Tony Stark decided to hire me on the spot," Thor said, voice dropping. "And offer me his protection."

Loki paused at that, "Stark did?"

"Yes," Thor said, leaning his forehead against the wall in the living room. "He might be drunk. He is insisting that he is not but whatever the case may be he scared off Laufey for now."

Breathing a sigh of what could have been relief, Loki sagged against the phone table, "Oh thank God.  I thought I told you to be careful and watch your back."

"I do not have enough eyes to watch my back entirely from Laufey's gang," Thor replied. "Brother, why would Father cast me out to him?"

"Because he would not risk a war," Loki murmured, sounding pained and doing his best to ignore Fandral because every time he saw a flash of blond hair in his apartment he wanted to commit violence.

"So better I be sacrificed for actions I did not commit?" Thor asked, voice dropping. "Are you at least well?"

"I..." Loki hesitated, "Sif blames me.  I-I am doing alright, though.  I'm being careful."

"Sif blames you for this?" Thor asked, something heated entering his voice.

"I'm not sure she's the only one," Loki murmured, his voice quiet, small.  "They don't trust me, Thor." Fandral frowned darkly from where he was at the door, but considering he stayed after Loki's express order's to leave to glean any information about Thor he could, he wisely remained silent.

On the other end of the line, Thor was also silent a beat. "If I accept Stark's offer," he said instead, stomach churning. "We may be on opposite sides. Not today or tomorrow because Fa—Odin," he amended, the word father feeling odd in his mouth now. "Would not willingly side with Laufey and Laufey made it expressly clear he will be coming after Stark. But, we may yet—"

Loki swallowed hard at that, pausing before replying calmly and clearly, "I won't fight against you. Odin can do as he pleases, but he can't make me do that."

"Then he will have to disown you as well and he will have no heirs left," Thor said but his voice warmed again.

That earned a wry twist of Loki's lips and a dry laugh, "Won't that be a sight?  Odin with his empire but no legacy."

Thor laughed, the sound a soft rumble in his chest. "I miss you. I miss mother and the others. But I miss you."

"And I you," Loki murmured.  "Stay safe, brother."

"As much as I can be," Thor said and paused. "Stark may be insane."

"So you're being protected by a madman," Loki drawled.  "That's reassuring."

"Perhaps," Thor agreed. "I hope that he proves me wrong yet."

"I suppose we shall have to wait and see."  Loki paused, looking toward where Fandral still stood, "Promise me that you'll take care of yourself."

"I always say that I will," Thor said. "And then I get shot again or taken in to the care of madmen. I wonder that you are still asking."

"Because you keep doing things like that," Loki answered, shaking his head.  "If you stopped getting yourself into such situations I would feel less compelled to require promises of you."

"But then what would you do?" Thor asked. "If you no longer had to wring promises out of me?" He turned, hearing the murmur of conversation between Eric and Darcy and Jane in the kitchen. Partly he did not want to give up his brother's voice in his ear and partly he did not want to face them again.

Loki meanwhile was caught between not being ready to hang up and a desperate need to hurl Fandral out of his apartment and down the stairs, "I would find something else to nag you about."

"You do nag," Thor agreed. "And yet somehow still manage to make that look graceful."

"I make everything look graceful, haven't you figured that out by now?"

"Except that you have never danced," he said. "And you do not injure gracefully."

"I dislike pain, and no one would partner with me in a dance," his brother replied.  "Though, really, does anyone injure gracefully?"

"I offered to teach you," Thor said.

"Are we truly having this conversation again?" Loki asked, hyper-aware of Fandral's presence still.

"Perhaps," Thor said. "I never understood why you refused. Besides, others are impressed with my ability to both lead and follow. Even though it looked odd I'm sure to have a woman who only comes up to my collarbone leading."

"Sif is taller than your collarbone, I'm almost sure of it," Loki replied.  "And it would have been awkward to dance with my brother."

"I did not mean Sif," Thor said. "And it would not have been."

"Who else have you been dancing with?" Loki asked, hoping it sounded less like a demand than he thought it did.

"Jane," Thor said, with no last name or other identifiers. "She's the one who's offered me a place to stay."

"Jane," his tone was flat.  "Where are you, Thor?"

"There," Thor said. "I should go. They have not had a good night."

"No, I would imagine they haven't.  So you'll give me nothing to tell Fandral who has been standing by my door listening to the entire phone call rather than leave?" Loki asked, shooting the blond in his apartment a long look.

"Fandral has been there?" Thor asked, tone obviously brightening.

Loki's jaw tensed slightly, and he did everything he could to keep the ice out of his tone, "Yes, he's here.  He showed up, shoved his way in, grilled me in a way that makes me think he sides with Sif as to my guilt and refuses to leave after that offense."

Pausing a long moment, Thor sighed before he spoke again. "Tell them that I am safe, and about Stark if you like. But it is certainly not your fault."

Loki sighed very slightly, "Very well.  Thank you.  Take care and, and call me if you can."

"I will," Thor said. "Be kind to Fandral."

"I promise to try," Loki answered.  "Be careful."

Thor hesitated a long moment. "I miss you," he said again.

"And I you.  We'll see each other again, especially if you have protection as you say you do," Loki said, sounding more confident than he had the day before.

"Yes," Thor agreed. "Good night, Loki."

"Good night, brother," he replied before hanging up and turning to Fandral.  "He has gained protection from Tony Stark, but still won't tell me where he is.  Do with that information what you will."

"Tony Stark?" Fandral asked, suspecting based off what he could hear but still shocked. He was silently comparing what Loki had said with what he had heard the night before as he had listened to Odin and Loki speak, silent for having been trying to pass through the hall before he heard their voices. "Is he mad?"

"As best Thor and I can determine, yes, quite," Loki nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I meant Thor," Fandral said, taking another look around the apartment before Loki really did try to pitch him down the stairs. "Though I suppose he doesn't have much of a choice." He paused, eyes lingering over the holes on Loki's bookcase, where he knew books should have been. "Say, whatever happened to that vase Thor gave you?"

"I put it away," Loki replied, frowning at him.  "If there's nothing else, you have long since overstayed your welcome."

"It looked so much like your eyes," Fandral said, already stepping through the doorway.

"What?" Loki snapped, but shook his head and quickly rescinded the question, "Never mind."

Fandral shrugged. "You never did figure that out did you?"

"I don't tend to look at my eyes much," he replied dryly.

"It still should have been obvious," Fandral said. "Even to someone as dense about himself as you."

"Good day, Fandral," Loki said, eyes narrowing. Giving him a sloppy and almost mocking salute, Fandral bolted down the stairs, wondering how he could contact the others as quickly as possible.

As soon as Fandral was gone, Loki locked the door, looking around for something to vent his anger on again.  He was running out of fragile things and he didn't want to contemplate the jealousy he felt curling in the pit of his stomach.  Instead he crossed the room to his bedroom and started piecing together the risks he would need to accommodate the changes in his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special shout out of thanks to our reviewers on the last chapter Maude and Starkette, it really lit up our days to hear what you thought! We love hearing from our readers and we thrive on words--especially heading into our finals here in the next couple of weeks.


	4. Oleander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware

Some nights Odin felt the phantom pain of his scars as if they were still wounds. Tonight, his eye ached as he started to undress, dropping the tie with the raven tie pin on the dresser without much thought to how it would fall.

Frigga turned from where she had been removing the pins that held her long, fading blond hair in place.  Crossing to her husband's side she ran gentle fingers over his shoulders, "Have you heard anything of him?"

"Of Thor?" he asked, and even that question felt superfluous.

"Yes," she answered quietly, reaching up to massage his temples.

"No," he said. "If he had died, it is likely we would have heard it."

"And when he does fall because he has lost your protection?" Frigga asked, "Will you even be permitted to mourn?"

"Of course," Odin said, carefully not shrugging her off.

Frigga drew her hands back, turning to finish with her hair, "Even if it might be too much insult to Laufey? After all you cast our son out because of the massacre."

"I can do as I would wish," Odin said, rising and resisting the urge to rub a hand over the scar on his eye.

She turned from her mirror, watching her husband for a long moment as she twisted her hair into a braid, "Can you truly?"

"Who would stop me if I wished to mourn?" Odin asked. "Laufey has sons of his own."

"Will you allow yourself to?" Frigga changed the question, her attention never wavering.  "You act in ways that cause you harm, my love."

"How do you mean, wife?" he asked, voice going stiff.

"I mean, husband, that you have cast our son upon the mercy of Laufey who has reason to take him from us.  More reason that Thor knows," Frigga held up a hand and continued.  "I know why you did it, the logical reasons that are an attempt to keep us from losing more. But will you allow yourself to grieve when your own decisions, which you have spoken to your people, cost you the life of Thor?"

"Of course I would grieve for him, in my own way, as a son of my blood," Odin said. "But it would have been better to never have a son."

"Are you so sure he has done this thing?" Frigga asked.

"I am not," Odin said, leaning back and sitting on the edge of the bed. "But either way, I will not accept him home."

His wife paused for a long moment at that before joining him, "What will you do if he survives this, by some miracle?"

"I do not know," Odin said, turning his head to watch her. "For if he realized it or not, he would have killed me in the next few years."

Frigga ran a hand over the bedspread, watching the way the fabric smoothed behind it, "And yet we came to have not one child but two. Perhaps you are right and we never should have had a son to begin with, but it is more than twenty years past time to think that."

"It was different when they were children," Odin said, voice heavy. "Thor is a threat to me now and I do not know what Loki is like to do."

"I am not certain Loki himself knows what he is like to do," Frigga admitted.  "I wish they were not, but they are still sons of violence as much as of us, perhaps more."

"Yes," Odin agreed. "They were born into violence and have always lived it. It would have been better if Thor had been less than he is. But they all love him, far more than me. Heimdal is loyal as it seems like he must be, but even he looks to Thor as much as to me now." He sighed, the sound heavy. "I used to liken myself to a king, thinking I ruled the underworld. But kings want heirs and I should never have had any."

"Oh, my love," Frigga sighed, shaking her head. "You have built a destruction for yourself more surely than either of us foresaw."

"You should well have married another man," Odin sighed. "For I am selfish to want to keep going at the expense of our son."

His wife paused at that, falling still, "You always have."

"Been selfish?" he asked, looking over.

"Yes. And I have always loved you, regardless.  And I love you still, but Thor is my son and I do not know how I shall forgive you when harm comes to him."  She paused, "Any more than I know how I shall forgive him when harm comes to you because of him."

Odin almost laughed but could not quite manage it. "I have put us in a bind. I did—somehow I did not expect a son like him."

Frigga's lips curved upward into a mirthless smile, "With a father like you and a mother like me how could he be aught else?"

"I wish he wasn't," Odin said, resting his head against Frigga's shoulder. "Or that I could have been proud of him instead of wary."

She reached over to run her fingers through his white hair, "In another life, perhaps, my love.  You would have been a great king."

His laugh was cut off. "Perhaps. I have ruled here well enough."

"For far longer than we expected," she agreed quietly.

"Then perhaps it will last a while longer."

o-o-o

Focused on the car in front of him, gears and grease spread out around the garage, Tony had the radio turned up on jazz music. He was hoping that no one would ask him where he was last night while waiting for Thor to arrive that morning.

The door to the garage opened and a man with dark, curly hair stepped inside.  He crossed through Tony's peripheral to turn the music down just slightly, "You're going to damage the speaker at that rate."

"Don't touch my music," Tony shot back. "You're not Pepper. I expected Pepper."

"I'm sure she'll be along soon," he said, pausing and looking around for a place to sit before lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor a short distance away.  "How are you, Tony?"

Tony turned his head. "You know," he shrugged. "I'm alright."

Bruce's eyebrows rose slightly at that, "Really? Even with everything going on?"

"Sure," Tony said, as he had never been honest about how he was doing his entire life and not about to start now. "You've done well for yourself since I've been gone."

"Well, I've been working at least.  Missed the chaos you bring into my life, though," Bruce admitted with a faint smile.

"No one should miss that chaos," Tony huffed, turning a gear around in his hand. "Though it's sweet to hear."

"It gets boring just having a medical practice.  Listening to you talk about those plans, and these engines, and everything else is something that I've been lacking," his friend said simply.

Tony gave Bruce a tiny smile, not quite an easy grin. "But the medical practice is probably better for you."

Bruce shrugged, "Maybe, but I've never fully supported things that are better for me."

"Hear you were working with Howard," Tony said, flipping the panel he was looking at over.

Bruce picked up one of the loose gears before setting it down in the exact same place again, "I was on the payroll to patch people up, yeah."

"You still going to do that?" Tony asked, humming a bar of the song before finally looking up at Bruce.

He paused before nodding, "If you want me to.  I don't see any reason to stop.  I like you a great deal more than I did Howard."

"Well that's reassuring," Tony said. "Because if you liked him more you'd be fired."

That garnered a smile from Bruce, "I've known you too long not to like you."

"Usually I think it goes the other way," Tony said, pointing the wrench at him. "What do you think of Stane?"

Bruce paused at that, picking up another one of the parts, turning it over in his hands and shrugging as he answered, "I think he's an excellent businessman—all sorts of business."

Tony considered him a long moment, expression mostly neutral. "I remember him, but not that well."

"I honestly haven't seen much of him," Bruce said, musing.

"But you did work with daddy Stark," Tony said. "I might have done something really stupid—or really smart—last night and need something of a crash course in what it was."

Setting the piece he was holding down again, Bruce looked Tony over, "What did you do?"

"Offered someone a job," Tony said, as he always threw favors around without thought for follow through. "So the big gangs."

"The three big ones in this city are How—yours now, Laufey's, and Odin's.  Laufey and Odin are barely cordial on their best days."

"That's what worries me," Tony admitted. "I think I stepped in the middle of their fight."

"What did you do?" Bruce asked again.

"Hired Thor," Tony said like it was a mild thing.

The other man stared at him for a long moment, "You hired Odin's heir to work for you?  No, wait, there was something I heard last night...Odin's cast him out, hasn't he?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "So, seeing a girl yet?"

"No.  I saw a lovely woman for a year or so, but we went our separate ways.  She's absolutely brilliant and I still hear from her sometimes, but she's engaged now."

"That's too bad," Tony said, frowning at the panel he was holding, starting to fiddle with it.

Bruce shrugged slightly, "Maybe so.  I'm alright with it, and she's happy."

"Aren't you supposed to fight for what you want?" Tony asked, tone idle, fingers digging into the metal.

"Yes.  But I didn't want to marry her. Not by the time we parted.  She's a good friend, but not someone I would settle down with," Bruce said, shaking his head.

"I remember you being angrier," Tony said, giving him a sidelong look.

"Oh don't let me fool you, I still am.  I just have a bit of control over it now," Bruce answered.  "I'm still, apparently, terrifying when I do lose my temper."

"It's good to know some things don't change," Tony said, fairly certain the fights he got into with Bruce nearby was partly why he got shipped across the country.

"And what about you?  Still have notebooks full of inventions?"

"And then some," Tony said, smile pulled tight across his face.

Bruce offered him a half smile at that, "You're brilliant, Tony.  I think you'll do alright, just tread carefully around Odin and Laufey—or more carefully I suppose."

Tony laughed, shaking his head. "So all I have to do is figure out how to play gangsters off each other, run my own business and not get anyone killed. Oh, and probably avoid cops but that at least I'm usually good at."

Bruce chuckled, "First step is finding people you trust who can help you with at least some of that."

"You, Pepper, Rhodey," Tony said, holding up a hand. "I'm working on the rest."

"Well, it's a start.  Is Rhodey staying over here with you, then?"

"He's talked about it," Tony said. "Pepper transplanted but he started muttering something about my ability to take care of myself and I reminded him I could and then he seemed to start looking for apartments."

Bruce laughed, shaking his head, "Well, that sounds like he's going to then.  So you have the three of us.  Like I said, it's a start.  And what position did you offer Odin's son?"

"Bodyguard," Tony said. "Rhodey is going to kill me."

His friend fell very still at that, "You mean to tell me you appointed someone you don't know as your guard?"

"Yes," Tony said. "Pepper's going to kill me too. Probably first."

"Probably.  I don't think I've ever known anyone to take Pepper on when it comes to who gets to kill you first," Bruce admitted.  "Do you think it will work having him as your guard?"

"I don't know," Tony shrugged. "I have the feeling I might have to run it by Obadiah first."

The doctor pursed his lips at that, "He's not going to like it."

"No, he's not," Tony agreed and there was a polite but heavy knock on the door. "Get that would you—I'm covered in grease."

"You need a butler or something for when I'm not around," Bruce pushed himself to his feet, crossing to the door and opening it.

"Good morning," Thor greeted, arms crossed over his chest as he had waited for the door to open and still without a suit jacket.

Bruce blinked up at him before stepping back, "Good morning.  Come on in."  He glanced back and called over his shoulder, "Tony, Odinson's here."

"Oh," Tony said, dropping the panel he was working on. "Shit." He tried to wipe his hands off and realized that all he had was his pants which were already a mess. He could already feel his credibility take a plunge by the time he looked up to see Thor's head cocked to one side, considering but not judging.

"That is a very nice old car," Thor said, tone mild. "Does it still run?"

"Better than ever, once the parts get in," Tony said, pushing himself to his feet. "Though that might not be until tomorrow."

Bruce crossed over to the car, running his hand over the hood, "You always have been good with cars."

Tony grinned at him and Thor filed that away to remember later. "You look better this morning," he said and Tony startled at him.

"What?" he said, certain that he looked better in a suit that covered in car grease.

"You're less drunk," Thor shrugged.

The door opened again, Pepper entering, her heels clicking on the floor.  She came to a stop when she spotted Thor and Tony, "Tony, you were supposed to be ready fifteen minutes ago."  She glanced toward Bruce, "Oh, hello, Bruce.  It's been a while."

"Hello, Pepper."

"What am I ready for?" Tony asked, blinking wide eyes at her.

She checked the notebook she carried, "You have an appointment in less than an hour.  There doesn't appear to be any specific note with it, but it's here."

"Here?" Tony asked and maybe he was more hung over than he thought. "Not here in the garage?"

"No, here as in here on my calendar.  It looks like it's at the office."

"Oh good," Tony said, relaxing slightly.

Pepper laughed, "I know better than to schedule people to meet you here."  She paused for a moment, eying Thor warily before extending her hand, "Virginia Potts."

"Thor Odinson," he replied, shaking her hand carefully.

Pepper withdrew her hand, nodding slightly, "And you're here because....?"

"I do believe Mr. Stark hired me last night," Thor replied and Tony moved slightly so that he was standing more behind Bruce than in front of him.

Her eyebrow arched very sharply and Bruce took a half-step back as he recognized the look, "Did he really?  And in which capacity was that?"

"Bodyguard," Thor said, tone simple. "I wanted to make sure that offer was still open in the morning."

Pepper turned her attention to Tony, her expression never changing, "Well, is the offer still open?"

"Yeah," Tony said and Thor looked over at him.

"How did this come about?" Pepper asked, still considering Tony.

"Well, I needed one, didn't I?" Tony asked and realized she may be the wrong person for that question. "I mean, I did. So it happened."

She nodded once and turned her gaze back to Thor, "Good luck."

"Are you wishing that for Mr. Stark or me?" he asked.

"Both.  You at the moment."

"Thank you for your concern," he said, inclining his head slightly and certain he was going to need it. "Should you not be getting ready?" he asked, glancing back at Tony and Tony blinked before nodding, moving quickly back toward his apartment.

Pepper excused herself, trailing after Tony.  Bruce watched them go before looking back at Thor, "If you betray him I won't be the first in line to kill you, but I promise I'll be the last."

For a long moment, Thor just stared at him. "So there is loyalty then," he said finally. "Good."

"He said he had gotten himself caught between Laufey and Odin for you," Bruce said, carefully stepping around the engine parts that were still scattered across the garage floor.

"It is possible he has," Thor admitted. "I would like to believe at least that he has not raised Odin's ire, though I worry about Laufey."

"He's going to have to go toe-to-toe with his own lieutenant over this, I hope you realize," the doctor murmured.

"His lieutenant?" Thor asked.

"I've no other name for him, yet.  He's more than that and less than that and," Bruce paused. "Tony's newly come to power and still hasn't had time to deal with the power his father had in place."

"So who have I likely already angered?" Thor asked, certain that the other remembered which family he was from, based on what he had said when Thor entered.

"Obadiah Stane.  He will not be pleased to know that Tony just walked them into a situation opposite Laufey."

"Stane," Thor acknowledged. "He always prefers to play the others off each other rather than actively become involved."

Bruce nodded very slightly at that, "I'm not sure Stane's going to care much for the way Tony will handle things, Tony's always been more direct."

"He's something different," Thor said. "Stark, I mean. From Stane or his father."

"Tony's his own man, always has been no matter what his father thought or wanted."  He paused, considering what he knew about Thor Odinson before speaking again, "He has more compassion than either of them.  But he doesn't take kindly to those that hurt him or those he's chosen to protect."

Thor's smile looked genuine. "Good."

Bruce's lips curved upward slightly at that, "That's a good response to have to him.  We'll see how long you hold onto it."

"You sound like you expect it to disappear at any moment," Thor said.

"Tony....is complex.  I've met few people who can spend a long time with a positive view of him," Bruce shook his head slightly.  "I think it's telling that his three closest friends are people he's known for years."

"Everyone can use more friends," Thor said, still smiling.

Bruce smiled again at that, "Like Pepper said, good luck."

"I am sure everything will be fine," Thor said and blinked in surprise when Tony swept back down, face and hands clean, in a well pressed suit and wearing shades.

Pepper emerged two steps behind Tony, still looking as perfectly coiffed as when she'd arrived, and appearing pleased at how quickly Tony had put himself together for another day, "Happy has the car waiting."

"That was fast," Thor said, falling in behind Tony.

Pepper's lips curved into a knowing smile, "Tony can be efficient when he wants to be."  Bruce followed them out and then excused himself to go about his day.

Thor had listened quietly as Tony went over a meeting with several studio producers, all seeming to fling their hands up in the air and wail about their budgets and producing movies quickly enough. When Tony finally was able to shoo them out, he closed the door hard and leaned against it, Thor only raising his brows. "Are most your meetings like that?"

"I really hope not."

Pepper closed the notes she'd been taking and rose, "I would suspect that that will depend on the current work being done at the studio as to how the meetings go.  On the other hand, you're only inheriting it once."

"If anyone else wants to leave me anything, they can just go ahead and not," Tony decided, fiddling with the cabinets of the office until he found where Howard stashed the scotch.

"I'll be sure that note gets sent around," Pepper replied drily.

Thor considered the scotch that Tony was pouring as the door opened again, Obadiah striding through, entirely confident of his welcome. "Tony," he greeted, already touching his shoulder before he noticed Thor and his expression changed. "Why is Odinson here?"

"Because I hired him," Tony said, shifting slightly with the glass in his hand. Pepper eyed Obadiah's hand on Tony's shoulder, shifting forward ever so slightly before catching herself and turning her attention to straightening up her papers.

Obadiah blinked once, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist and guiding him across the room so the others could not hear him as clearly. Crossing his arms over his chest, Thor did not follow but his eyes narrowed.

"Tony, what are you thinking?" Obadiah asked, head bowed and Tony tilted his chin back.

"You did say I needed a bodyguard, or that I shouldn't go out of my own."

"And trusting Odinson was what you got out of that?" Obadiah asked, sounding stressed as he shook his head. "Do you have any idea how this is likely to turn out? Laufey's already looking everywhere for him."

"I know," Tony said and Obadiah's eyes turned even colder. "Look, I do know that. But he needed protection and so did I."

"Tony," Obadiah said, caught between fed up and oddly fond and Tony felt a curl of annoyance in his chest. "Tony, you can't protect each other. You should have come to me, I know plenty of people who would be good for this. But he is a danger to you and to our interests."

"Our interests," Tony repeated and Obadiah nodded.

Pepper finished with her papers and took a step forward, "Excuse me, Mr. Stane.  I'm terribly sorry, but Tony has another appointment that we can't be late for."

Obadiah turned to look at her before shrugging, finally dropping his arm away from Tony. "Alright," he said and tucked a several tickets into Tony's suit pocket. "But I expect to see you here tonight," he said and nodded to Pepper again. "Good day, Miss Potts."

"Good day, Mr. Stane," she held herself carefully still, her attention apparently already back on the notebook she carried. Watching Thor on the way out, Obadiah closed the door again. As soon as the door was closed, Pepper drew a deep breath, "Alright. So you've technically got a couple of hours ‘til your next actual commitment."

"Stark," Thor said, unsure what to actually call him.

"Please, not that," Tony groaned. "Mr. Stark is worse. Tony, please."

"Anthony," Thor compromised with a shrug and ignored Tony's small sigh. "He was not wrong. This is not—"

"We need to get you suits," Tony cut off, deciding he would take advantage of Pepper's lie.

"What?" Thor managed.

Pepper nodded once, "He's right.  You're going to need suits that actually fit."

Thor looked between the two of them, annoyed they were both ignoring his point. "Alright," he said. "Though it may be finally safe enough for me to at least stop by the apartment. There are suits there."

"Well, that's certainly worth a check.  If it's not possible there's still time to see about getting to a tailor today," Pepper said, picking up her coat and starting for the door.

"She is very efficient," Thor said and Tony laughed, already following Pepper.

Happy pulled the car up in front of Thor's building and for a moment they could only stare before Thor bounded out of the car. "My friends," he greeted, arms already out to see Sif and the other three of his friends on the doorstep, looking surprised to see him. He caught Hogun up first.

Hogun startled before clapping Thor on the back and stepping back, "We were not sure you would return here."

Thor stepped back as Fandral hit him on the shoulder. "Then why are you—?"

"We heard about Stark's offer to you," Sif said, eying the man in question as he stepped out of the car, shades firmly planted over his eyes. "We thought that we could at least drop some of your things off at Stark's, or see if you had been here. Before this we had no idea where you had gone."

Pepper stepped out right behind Tony, staying a pace behind him as her eyes flickered over the others assembled.  Volstagg clapped Thor's shoulder, "But you are here, and it is good to see you, my friend."

"It is good to see you all as well," he said.

"Where were you?" Sif demanded. "Odin said you were cast out and we've heard or seen nothing since."

"But the news that Stark has taken me in has already circulated?" Thor asked, looking between them.

"Loki told Fandral," Hogun answered with a shrug.

"Of course," Thor said. "Does anyone else in the family know yet?"

"Not unless Loki told them," Fandral said and paused. "We need to speak about Loki."

"I'm not certain we would know if not for the fact that Fandral was there when you told Loki to begin with," Volstagg muttered.

Thor looked between them before focusing back on Fandral. "What about Loki?" he asked, voice dropping before he held up a hand. "We should get inside first. Laufey—"

"One of his men was here," Sif said. "Watching. We dispatched him."

Pepper paled very slightly at that, but kept her poise as Hogun spoke, "Thor's right, though.  We should go inside."

"It means it will probably not be safe for you to come back again," Sif said, leading the way inside and up the stairs to Thor's apartment that he kept, only a few buildings away from Loki.

Pausing briefly, Pepper followed them up the stairs to the apartment.  Volstagg looked around the apartment once they were inside, "Fandral's been hearing enough that Loki's stories don't line up."

"Loki's stories never line up," Thor said, sounding mostly unconcerned as Tony started snooping around the apartment, considering the framed photo of Thor and a darker-haired, slender man that looked nothing like him.

"Thor, he set you up," Fandral said. "He tried to have you killed."

Pepper paused by the doorway to what she thought was the bedroom, her attention nominally on the contents of a table nearby as she listened. Thor stilled completely, watching Fandral. "What?" he asked, voice dropping several octaves in one word.

"I caught him the night of the massacre talking to Odin," Fandral said. "He said it was you, that it was all you and he was convinced you had lost your mind. He told me something different because I would never have believed him."

"Though he did try to insist that you were more reckless than you have been when Sif cornered him," Volstagg supplied.

"He has always been jealous," Sif said, eyes narrowed and Thor shook his head slightly.

"He is my brother," Thor rumbled and Fandral started pacing, Tony sliding into the bedroom to join Pepper but still listening.

Hogun nodded, "But Sif is not wrong, and Fandral seems certain."  Pepper opened the closet, moving quietly enough that she and Tony would still be able to hear the conversation outside the room.

Tony didn't bother with packing, just leaning toward the door. "Why are you so certain?" Thor asked and Fandral sighed.

"Because he's not the brother you seem to want him to be," Fandral said. "Because he lied to Odin, and to me, and he put you in the perfect position to die. Because if you didn't kill them, he must have."

"Those are not—" Thor started.

"Convincing reasons?" Fandral asked. "Then I will find one that is because your brother tried to have you killed without stabbing the knife in himself." Pepper fell very still, her hand resting against the dark blue of one of Thor's suits and her eyes darting to the doorway. It would appear that Tony's new bodyguard had a lot more trouble than just a single gang out for his blood.

"He did not," Thor ground out.

"But it is possible that he did," Volstagg said before Hogun cut in.

"What did he tell you when you spoke, Thor?"

"Many things," Thor said and paused. "Mostly that he missed me."

"Nothing about his conversation with your father?" Hogun verified.

"Not so clearly," Thor said, frowning as he tried to remember.

"Because he seems to have been caught between supporting you, barely, to Odin in public, and telling us that he wasn't sure you didn't do it," Volstagg said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Thor let out a long breath. "Find me more proof," he snapped, striding into the bedroom and pausing to see Pepper and Tony already retreated in there.

Pepper had pulled a handful of suits out and laid them carefully across the bed, willing to pretend she hadn't heard anything until she had pieced it together a bit better, "I wasn't sure which you preferred, so I grabbed a few basics.  There's no trouble taking them all, at this point.  Considering what they said about your chances of returning, you may want to see what else you'll want from here."

"Yes," he said, nod tight. "Thank you." He went to the closet quickly, pulling down suits and pausing where his ties were, touching the red ones and looking for a long moment at the green one he had never worn before tossing them all on the suits. Digging around, he found a suitcase and started carefully folding clothes into it.

"Is there anything you may want from the front room?" Pepper asked, hovering near the doorway.

"Yes," Thor said and Tony moved around, picking up keepsakes and leaving them near Thor in case he wanted them.

She ducked out of the room, stepping past the others there and gathering things that looked like they probably had sentimental value, placing them together for Thor to look over.  She picked up the framed photograph of Thor and the dark-haired man, they looked nothing alike but she was willing to bet good money that it was his brother.

"You would have Thor take that?" Sif asked, looking over from where she was talking in low and angry tones to Volstagg.

Pepper set the photograph down next to the other objects, turning to face Sif, "I would give him the option."

"He is already too compromised when it comes to his brother," Sif said. "I wish his mind was clearer." She paused before approaching Pepper. "Stark. Is he a good man?"

"The best I know," Pepper answered simply.

"Good," Sif said, and Thor stepped back out of the bedroom before considering the living room and dismissed the kitchen as holding anything of value. Pepper met Sif's eyes steadily for a long moment before turning her attention to Thor and stepping away from the items she'd set on the table.

"Truly efficient," he marveled. "Thank you."

Her lips curled upward slightly at that, "You're welcome.  I wasn't sure about several things, so I may not have grabbed it all.  I don't know you well enough to know what you would take with you, exactly."

"Still," he said, "It was a good effort," and took the book Sif shoved at him automatically. "Yes, thank you as well."

"Will you see your brother?" Sif asked as Pepper slipped back into the bedroom to check on Tony as much as to escape the tension that hung over the front room.

"Of course I will," Thor said. "He is my brother. But I will be careful, and mindful of the warning you have given me."

"He did everything in his power to convince Odin to cast you out," Fandral said. "Even if Odin did not need much convincing."

"He has been covert enough in his actions that to do you harm outright would not be in his interest," Volstagg said, watching Thor with a faint frown.  "But do not put it past him."

"He would not attack me," Thor said and that was final.

For a moment there was silence as he moved around the apartment, gathering what he could before Sif reached a hand out to his shoulder, touching it lightly. "I understand he is your brother," she said finally, though it was a grudging acceptance. "But we miss you as well, and would like to hear from you, and that you are safe."

Thor turned back to her and nodded. "Yes. I am sorry. I did not wish to put you in more danger."

"Let us know from now onward?" Hogun suggested, leaning against the wall.

"Yes," Thor agreed. "I will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so sorry for the length of time between updates. We got caught up in finals and then the holidays. Which reminds me, Happy Holidays everyone!


	5. Dame Violet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watchfulness

Thor hesitated outside the building where the soup kitchen was, suitcase easily carried in one hand, before he knocked on the door. It opened moments later, Jane offering him a smile, "We were wondering what time you'd be back."

"I was unsure about coming back," he admitted. "Are you quite sure it is a wise idea?"

She shrugged, stepping out of the doorway, "We weren't sure it was a wise idea to take in someone drenched in blood, but we did it anyway. We've got the room after all.  Come on in."

His smile changed his whole face as he stepped through the doorway. "Thank you."

"You're still going to help out around the place, right?" Darcy asked, poking her head down the stairs. "I'm folding laundry. You should help."

Eric came in from the house kitchen, "Oh good, you're back."

"We can always use your help around the kitchen, if you have time during the day at all," Jane cut in again.

He looked between the three of them, stunned into silence for a moment before grin spreading across his entire face. "Yes," he said. "What time there is, you shall have." He looked up at Darcy. "I even may have time to help you before I must leave this night."

"Do you have time to eat something before you have to go again?" Eric asked.

"I believe so," he agreed after a beat.

Eric nodded, slightly, "Good, I'll see about finishing dinner up quickly then."

Thor stood for a moment, trying to figure out how his path had brought him to such a place before lugging the suitcase to the room he'd been sleeping in the last few nights and helping Darcy fold the sheets—though he tore one of them by accident—and eating a quick meal before dressing for the night. He pulled a dark maroon tie out and paused to see the raven tie pin his father had given him still attached. For a long moment he stared at it before bending the metal in his hands and dropping it to one side. He stepped out in a black, bespoke suit and light shirt.

Jane's jaw dropped when he emerged, "That....wow, I can see why the off-the-rack suits didn't work."

"That's just not fair," Darcy whined, looking up from where she was helping Eric with the dishes.

Eric glanced him over, nodding slightly to him as Jane stepped across the room to brush a piece of hair off his shoulder, "You'll be careful tonight?"

"Yes," he assured, as he was always careful before looking down at Jane with one arched brow. "Thank you." She stepped back, nodding and grabbing a rag to wipe down the table. "Be careful tonight as well," he said, looking between them. "I will be back before the morning."

"Try not to have too much fun!" Darcy called after him.

Eric watched him go, shaking his head, "I'm still not sure how good an idea this is."

Jane shrugged, finishing the table and straightening, "He still needs a place to stay and so his connections are a bit more...violent than we were certain of."

"A little?" Darcy asked. "Try way. I actually asked someone on the college campus about the Odinson name and he ran away, the coward. So I started looking into old newspapers."

"What did you find out?" Jane asked, leaning against the table.

"Not that much," she sighed. "But his dad's Odin, and the guy actually legally changed his son's names not to his last name, but Odinson. I mean, the level of arrogance there is pretty spectacular. But they're a rich family that's only getting richer."

Eric leaned against the counter, setting the last of the dishes in the drying rack, "And considering what happened last night, that method of getting richer is so far past the line of legality that I'm sure it can't even be called grey anymore."

"Oh, no," Darcy shook her head. "I might even go and ask the police about it because in the interviews I read they always seemed to stop just short of saying Odin did anything."

"That is something I don't think I'd do," Jane said.  "Not with us sheltering him, you know?"

"We could ask Steve," Darcy said after a beat. "You know, if he ever stopped by again. Because I think there's a lot about this family not fit to publish that they know."

Jane considered that and then nodded, "That's our best plan.  Steve's good for that, when he shows up.  But considering he hasn't very much since he joined the force, I doubt we'll see him soon."

"I mean, I love Thor," Darcy said. "But I think he has a scary family and I would like to be more generally prepared."

"I'd like to know more about the guy he's working for, too," Jane murmured.  "I mean, I know Howard Stark made movies, and Tony's his son, but there's a lot more going on there too."

"Movie studio's a front," Darcy said, nodding. "I'm almost sure of it."

"You girls are going to need to make up a list of things to ask Steve, at this rate," Eric said, shaking his head and heading for the living room.

"I'll get the notepad," Darcy chirped, already moving quickly to do just that.

o-o-o

The gym was dimly lit except for the boxing ring itself and the crowd around the ring was made up of men dressed in nice suits and long, contrasting ties.  Steve adjusted his jacket and glanced at his partner.  It was a location that was a known meeting place and a situation that was also known as a common excuse for the illegal groups of the city to gather.  The police officer was uncertain the wisdom of being there, no matter if it was sanctioned or not.

Logan glanced over at him and shook his head. "Please relax your shoulders," he hissed, having flashed tickets at the doorman. "Or your jaw, or something before you give us even more away."

Drawing a deep breath, Steve let it out, the line of his shoulders relaxing as he murmured, "Do you honestly think we're going to hear anything incriminating tonight?"

"Perhaps nothing worth dragging anyone in," Logan said. "But I want to know how the currents of power are working now." He paused, turning around as Tony Stark stepped through the door, Thor Odinson towering over his shoulder. "Like that, for instance."

"Well, that's a new development.  That's Odin's eldest son, isn't it?" Steve leaned back on his heels ever so slightly.

"Yeah," Logan agreed, eyes already seeking out to see if Odin was there and finding him staring at his son with a stony glint in his eye and jaw set in anger. He pinned Volstagg as the man with him.

Steve followed his gaze and shook his head very slightly, though taking note of the fact that Odin's guard didn't seem surprised by the latest turn of events, "This will go well.  We'll split and see each other after the match?" he suggested, glancing back at Logan.

"Yeah," Logan said, already heading for where the drinks were. "Don't get yourself dragged out back and beat up." Steve shook his head and muttered under his breath about the fact that he was actually able to watch his back and keep himself in tact as he turned in the opposite direction, weaving his way vaguely more toward the ring.

Before the first match started, Odin approached Tony and Thor. "Mr. Stark," he greeted though his gaze was on Thor, whose chin tilted back slightly. "How good it is to see you here."

"I'm so glad you think so," Tony said, flashing him a smile that looked genuine unless someone looked at his eyes. Luckily, it was light enough in the room he could leave the shades on.

Volstagg glanced at Thor from where he stood behind Odin's left shoulder, glad to see his friend but knowing far better than to express that.  It was fortunate that he had already known from Loki about Thor's employ and had seen the other man, else he wasn't sure he would have kept silent.

"Indeed," Odin said, still looking over his shoulder at Thor. "And you as well."

"Thank you, Father," Thor said, tone entirely neutral and Odin's mouth thinned even more. "It is good to see you as well." Tony remained silent, even though he was standing between them. His father and his fights have been much louder and usually drunker but her recognized the undercurrent of anger and resentment easily enough.

Odin hummed a sound, about to turn away when Thor could not help his next question, starting to realize what a knife he was twisting in. He briefly gave a thought to whether Loki would be proud of his realization or not. "And how is mother?" Thor asked and Odin turned back. "And my brother?"

"They are fine," Odin replied and Thor smiled at him, the expression crinkling the corners of his mouth.

"I am glad," he said, aware that Odin had thrown him out to die and starting to realize why when he thought about the four guards waiting for him at his apartment that day. Loyalty had always mattered so to Odin and he was losing it. Volstagg glanced from Odin to Thor before turning his attention half away from both of them and watching to see who had come in.  Most people he recognized and knew what sort of threat they or (in some cases) their guards were, but there were a couple he couldn't place.

"I hope you have a good night, Mr. Stark," Odin said, voice even stiffer as he turned and walked away. From across the room, Tony noticed Laufey watching him and went the other way.

"I suppose I have to get used to people calling me that," he sighed. "Mr. Stark, I mean."

"Too much like your father?" Thor asked with a dry smile. At least he never had that problem.

"No one is supposed to actually get in trouble here, right?" Tony asked, fingers of his left hand tapping against the glass frames before dropping. He was so busy making sure to avoid Laufey he almost ran into the same broad chest he had a few nights ago. "Um, there are cops here?" he asked, more directed at Thor as he stared at Steve.

Steve startled back slightly, blue eyes widening when Tony spoke.  He mentally cursed before offering Tony a half bow, "Mr. Stark."  He bit back his request to not get him beaten to a pulp or killed by repeating that any louder.

Thor just looked down at him. "There are always such people here," he said with a tiny shrug, appraising Steve over Tony's shoulder.

Letting his gaze flicker over Thor, Steve turned his attention back to Tony, "It's good to see you again."

"Really?" Tony asked, not quite with an edge of hysteria. "That's surprising."

"Well, I would have preferred it to be somewhere other than here, but it's not a bad thing to see you," he clarified.

"See, usually it's both," Tony said and Thor's eyes went down to consider him a moment. "I mean—" Tony cut himself off.

Steve blinked at him, "Both?"  He frowned, "Seems unfair to you in that case."

"Unfair," Tony repeated and the furrow between his eyebrows was obvious even over the darkened glasses he was wearing.

The other man shrugged very slightly, "To expect everyone you meet to not want to see you again?  Yeah."

"Well, with limited exceptions," Tony said. "He doesn't count, I pay him," he added, hitting his knuckles backward against Thor's chest.

"Not strictly speaking yet," Thor said, frowning down at him.

"Must get lonely," Steve responded, gaze flickering to Thor as he filed away the information about Odinson being on Stark's payroll.

Tony shrugged, waving a hand. "Not at all. Why would I possibly get lonely?" Behind him, Thor almost winced and decided that they needed to sit down and discuss exactly how honest to be in public if Tony was going to survive with any sort of reputation.

The cop's eyebrows rose skeptically at that, but he shrugged and let it pass, "No idea.  I'm not the unstoppable force in the equation."

Tony blinked at him once and laughed when he remembered. "Right. Well I didn't test your immovable object thing this time at least."

Steve blinked and then offered him a crooked grin, "You came close, though."

"But managed not to," Tony said, eyes moving to where the first match was going. "You'd be good at boxing."

"Not more than for back-alley fistfights," Steve replied, shaking his head, even as he looked toward the ring.

"What, really?" Tony said, snapping his eyes back. "Have you just never gotten proper fist fight training?"

"Fighting to get away from the guys who have you cornered is different than a boxing match of any sort," Steve refused to look back at Tony.

"Who the hell would corner you?" Tony asked.

Steve blinked, before remembering that he wasn't built like he had been at sixteen, "Not very many people.  Doesn't matter, I don't know how to fight in a ring."

Thor was trying not to look entertained, nor to watch his father too closely. "You should," Tony said. "It wouldn’t be hard to teach you and hey, you probably need to know how to get out in a fight, all professions considered."

"I know how to fight," Steve replied, thinking of all the times he'd spent fighting in back alleys and side streets growing up, usually against people twice his size.  He lost more often than not, but he always got back up and kept at it.

"My mistake," Tony drawled.

"Do you know how?" He asked, brows rising ever so slightly again.

"Yeah," Tony said. "Happy tends to project his protective streak into making sure I can take of myself without him."

"Not a bad thing, certainly," Steve replied.

Thor looked down in some surprise and Tony grinned. "Yeah, well, it's a good skill to have. Not saying I could take anyone huge down like you but I can fend for myself."

"Then you're not doing it the right way," Steve answered.  "You should be using their weight against them if they're bigger than you are, taking advantage of their reach to get in under it."

Tony's brows inched up in some surprise. "Oh?"

Steve nodded, "The point is to use their momentum as a counter.  The goal is to get them out of your way and stunned long enough to get out of reach."

"And you know how to do that?" Tony asked.

"You pick things up," the other answered with a nod.

"Well," Tony said, stepping almost closer. "If you get the time and wouldn't mind teaching me about how to take you down, I could show you proper techniques. It might come in handy one day." Thor almost choked on air, looking down at him.

Steve looked at him in shock, but nodded after a moment, "If you have time, I'm sure we could make it work."

Tony flashed him a smile as Obadiah approached. "Tony," he said, hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you could make it, especially without Miss Potts."

"What's wrong with Miss Potts?" Tony said, eyes snapping up. Steve's gaze flicked to Obadiah, considering the hand on Tony's shoulder and taking a guess that Miss Potts was the woman who had been with Stark the first time they met.

"Nothing," Obadiah said quickly enough. "She would not belong here, though. Are you enjoying the matches?"

"Well enough," Tony said, adjusting his glasses.

"It was good to see you again, Mr. Stark," Steve cut in, still watching Obadiah warily before offering his hand to Tony.

"Are you leaving already?" Tony asked, looking back.

"I was going to wander around a bit," his eyes flickered to the hand on Tony's shoulder again, "but I sure don't have to."

"No, no," Tony waved a hand. "Have a good night."

"We need to talk," Obadiah said, leaning down slightly. "There are some people you should be meeting."

Steve fell very still at that, considering how close Obadiah was to the younger man before he inclined his head to Thor, "Good to meet you tonight as well."

"I wish you luck in your endeavors," Thor said, inclining his head.

"Thank you," Steve said, carefully not returning the well wishes.  He inclined his head to Tony again, frowning faintly at Obadiah before slipping away.

"And who was that?" Obadiah asked.

"No one," Tony replied and Thor did not contradict him as Obadiah started turning Tony around the room, meeting everyone he thought important until they stopped in front of Laufey.

"We've met," Laufey said, tone cold and Tony offered him a smile anyway, Thor stilling from where he still walked behind. "I do believe that you owe me, Stark."

"We'll discuss those terms later," Obadiah said shortly, eying Thor who kept his eyes on Laufey.

"I do expect satisfaction," Laufey said and Thor snorted. "Is something amusing to you, Odinson?"

Thor rolled his shoulders, still watching him. "There is not much in your nature that allows you satisfaction, Laufey."

Helblindi appeared at his father's side, having approached when he saw Stane, "Hold your tongue, Odinson. By rights you should be dead."

Thor was exhausted of protesting he had not done it. "Perhaps," he agreed. "But I am not yet."

"Pity," Helblindi said, lip curling up in a sneer.  His dark eyes swept over Thor with a look of hatred, but he didn't say more.

Thor's smile was cold as Obadiah called them away, focusing on other groups. "I hope you appreciate the danger you have already put us in," he said into Tony's ear as they moved, Tony's smile frozen in place.

Steve passed them again, glancing in their direction and frowning before sliding up to Logan, "Are you ready to go?"

Considering, Logan shrugged. "Alright, I suppose it's late enough. What got you up in a twist?"

"I'm going to say three words I never thought I would," Steve answered as they headed for the exit.  "Summers is right."

Logan barked out a harsh laugh, "You two hate each other. What is he right about?"

"Stark and Stane.  Stane's going to want to keep control as long as he can, but if Stark ever comes into his own that's not going to work," Steve shook his head, thinking about how Obadiah moved around Tony and the way the other responded.  "Also, Stane is the creepiest bastard I think I've ever met."

"You're late to the club," Logan shrugged. "Something's always been off with him."

"Yeah?  Well, I hadn't seen him before.  Not where he had the chance to be like that, at least," Steve did not want to voice the fact that the way Obadiah moved around Tony Stark was proprietary more than anything.  He was unsure as to how true that was, and he very much did not want to deal with the urge he had to sweep Tony away from the older man before Stane could touch him again.

"You're taking this personally, Rodgers, aren't you?" Logan said after a beat. "I wouldn't. Stop."

"Personally's the wrong word, Logan," Steve replied, half ignoring the rest of what his partner said.  "I've seen people like Stane before and they're..." he shook his head, falling silent.

"You want to finish that?" Logan pressed after a beat.

"They ruin people.  You go in whole, you come out broken.  You go in broken, you come out shattered," Steve shrugged. "It doesn't matter when they start or finish, the other person never comes out the way they started."

For a moment, Logan just looked at him before he sighed. "Never mind, this is already personal."

o-o-o

Pushing the door open, Thor's head was bowed as he stepped through the door, shrugging out of his coat which had a smattering of rain drops on it from the drizzle outside. "I thought you were going to a party," Darcy said, catching one look at his face and he startled out of thoughts of his father.

Jane looked up from the book she was reading and blinked a couple of times at Thor, "You look like that didn't end well."

"It ended well enough," he said, though between watching Stane crowd against Tony, who looked caught between collapsing into the touch and running away, and watching Odin without watching Volstagg, and always aware of who was at his back, he was exhausted. "I am unsure it began well." When Darcy grabbed his arm, he let her drag him to the kitchen table and push him into a chair.

Jane closed her book and followed them, going automatically to the cookies she and Darcy had made, plating up several and setting them in front of Thor without a word. "We made cookies," Darcy said, gladly providing the commentary. "While making a list up of questions we have about you." Thor opened his mouth, brows drawing together but his question was muffled by Darcy shoving a cookie into his mouth.

"We're not going to ask you to answer them," Jane assured him.  "It's just a list of things we don't actually know."

Biting the cookie in half and catching the other half, Thor looked over. "I might not—" he started and realized there was probably nothing he wanted to answer with them both watching him.

Jane arched an eyebrow before pouring them all glasses of water, "I'm actually pretty sure that's not true."

"No," he sighed, "I suppose not."

"You're supposed to smile after eating a cookie, Thor," Darcy admonished, slapping him on the back and wishing he would at least wince to show he felt it.

"She will continue to force you to eat them for as long as she thinks you're feeling down," Jane supplied, sliding into the seat across from Thor.

"Then I suppose I will have to keep eating them," he said, flashing her a smile and Darcy was moving again.

"We should play cards."

"You only want to see if Thor is as incapable of beating you as Eric and I am," Jane said, shaking her head and turning the water glass around in her hands.

"Yeah," Darcy said, clearly finding no problem with that and Thor munched his way through another cookie.

Jane laughed, picking up one of the cookies to nibble on.  She glanced at Thor, pausing before speaking, "Are you doing alright?"

"I will be," he said after a long moment. "It may simply take a while."

"So what happened then?" Darcy asked, returning with a card deck. Jane held out a hand for the deck, silently insisting that Darcy let her deal the first hand.

Smirking, Darcy handed it over and Thor let out a long breath. "I saw my father tonight is all."

Shuffling the deck three times and letting Darcy cut it, Jane started to deal as she considered that answer, "I take that to mean you're not on good terms?"

"Not at the moment," Thor rumbled, accepting the cards and considering them. "Though he has always been a hard man."

"Does this have to do with why Tony offered you protection?" Jane asked, her gaze focused on the cards in her hand.

"Yes," he admitted after a moment's hesitation. "It does. Because my father believes it is better for him to cast me out." He shook his head and took another cookie.

"I should have made more cookies," Darcy told the cards in her hand.

Jane set her cards down and fetched the remainder of the batch before returning to her seat, "Did no one speak up for you?"

"No," he said, frowning to think of his friend's concerns that Loki had in fact planned the entire thing. "The person I thought would—who—I do not believe he did. Besides, once my father has made up his mind it's worthless to argue."

"I know it's not any help in that situation, but you've got a place here for as long as you want it," Jane said, reiterating the offer she had made the first night and cementing what they had said before he had left that day.

"Thank you," he said seriously, watching her with a level look.

"I mean, it's clearly their loss for being idiots, anyway," Darcy shrugged and Thor carefully looked down at the cards instead of over at her.

Hours later, Thor crawled into the bed they had remade with clean sheets that morning. Collapsing against the pillow his last thought was about Loki and whether anyone had stood for him. When he woke up his fingers itched to realize he had not called his brother the night before.

o-o-o

Loki entered Asgard, having gotten perhaps an hour of sleep the night before. He had spent the night sitting up and waiting for Thor to call and he felt like a complete fool for doing so.  His plan hinged on Thor not calling by the end of it, and yet he had panicked the first and only night he had not heard from his elder brother.

His suit and dark hair were both in perfect order, and the only sign of his fatigue were the deepening circles under his eyes, giving them an almost hollow look.  He let his gaze sweep over the speak as he crossed the floor, aiming himself toward an out of the way table which he preferred as it afforded him a clear view of most of the establishment.

Odin reached him before he got there. "Loki," he greeted and considered the other's face closely.

Startling very slightly, and mentally cursing his lack of sleep, Loki stopped to face his father, "Yes?"

"You have not heard from your brother have you?" Odin asked.

He frowned very slightly and shook his head, "Not recently."

"Since this started," Odin amended, shaking his head to himself at not being specific enough with his second son.

Loki hesitated and decided that the slightest truth was the best seed for a lie, "The first day after it happened, he called."

Odin's eyes narrowed. "Did he find out you're the one who blamed him?"

"If he did it certainly was not from me," Loki replied.  "He gave no evidence of that knowledge."

"I always had wondered exactly what you would be willing to sell out for your own sake," Odin said after a beat, no kindness in his voice. "So you have not heard he has been taken in by Stark then?"

Loki rocked back on his heels, eyes widening ever so slightly, "No, sir.  I hadn't heard that of yet."

For a long moment, Odin considered him before he nodded. "Laufey is as like to kill the both of them now."

"With Stark so newly come to power?" Loki asked, though he had been thinking the same thing since he had heard about the protection Thor had gained.

"It would take out a foe while he is still weak," Odin shrugged. "Stark has made no friends so far."

"By taking Thor in, it would seem he's actively making himself enemies instead," Loki murmured, shaking his head slightly.

"I do not expect him to last long," Odin said.

"What of Obadiah Stane?" His son asked, trying to recall what he knew of the late Howard Stark's right-hand.

"Obadiah is an old and crafty man," Odin said, watching Loki closely as he spoke. "But if he cannot control his wildcard he may burn with him."

Loki nodded very slightly, hoping he wasn't telegraphing his thoughts, but knowing he was showing more exhaustion than he intended, "Then for his sake, he had best hope he can."

"Do you think Thor ever stood a chance of controlling you?" Odin asked, as he half turned away before stopping.

Having started to turn toward the table again, Loki froze, green eyes darting to Odin, "What?"  He mentally cursed how strained his voice sounded—he should have gotten more sleep the night before considering the meeting he now desperately needed.

Odin shrugged and turned away. "You were his wildcard. I would hate to see you spiral out of control now."

Loki bit his tongue to remind himself not to respond with the first several things that came to mind.  Every last one of them would only cause suspicion or further problems for him.  He settled himself at the table at the back to wait an appropriate amount of time rather than turn around and leave immediately after arriving.

o-o-o

Clint groaned as Phil started dragging away the covers. "Up," he said. "You are so late as it is."

"Please tell me you didn't come back from the office to get me," Clint said, head smashed further down in the pillow.

"I did in fact," Phil said, shaking his head and bundling the blankets he'd taken up. "Thank you for finishing the paperwork last night." Phil had brought it home and left it on Clint's pillow. That morning it had been on the kitchen table, completed with a note of a sketched figure buried under paperwork.

"Does that mean I won't get yelled at for being late?" Clint asked.

"Yes, but I might finally kick you out," Phil said, attacking the pillow next.

"I've been living in your spare room for three years," Clint muttered, clinging to the pillow. "You would have if you could have."

Suddenly Phil pushed him right out of the bed and he landed with a yelp. After a brief chase around the apartment, Phil got Clint into the shower, with food shoved into his mouth as he drove them both back to the office.

Natasha looked up from where she was perched on the desk using a clipboard to hold her paperwork as she finished it.  Her lips curling into a smirk, she let her gaze rove over Clint, "And this is why I don't live with you."

"I really need to rethink my life choices," Clint agreed, climbing up on the desk with her, pressing their legs together.

"You would have if you could have," Phil said, breezing past him.

"It's a roof over your head and a job that you keep," Natasha shrugged, finally signing her reports and setting the clipboard down on the desk behind her, "I wouldn't complain too much."

Clint looked sideways at her. "And you're the one who didn't wake up by being shoved out of bed."

"I took the sheets off as warning," Phil said, already halfway across the office.

"You are so lucky I don't live with you," she informed Clint, crossing her legs at the knee and leaning back on her palms.  "I would have either used ice water or attempted to flip the mattress."

Eyes narrowed slightly, Clint shook his head. "Well, alright, that's true. He's a lesser of two evils."

Natasha smiled at him, an expression that showed a few too many teeth to be innocent, "An evil now am I?"

"A verifiable fiend," Clint said.

She made a quiet sound at that, offering him a mockery of a hurt look and tilted her head back to call to Phil, "I'm not a fiend am I?"

"Depends on who you ask," Sitwell answered before Phil could, making his way from the back of the office.

"To those who run bars?" Phil said, smile on the edges of his mouth. "I think they call you far worse."

"But to my partner, Phil?" Natasha replied, arching an eyebrow, "Should I be a fiend to him?"

"I live with him and I rolled him out of bed," Phil shrugged. "I think he just likes to feel persecuted."

She turned back to Clint, "You may be talking to the people who run the bars too much."

"Me?" he asked, putting a hand on his chest and widening his eyes.

Natasha grinned, "Yes you, since apparently those are the sorts of people who consider me a fiend, despite my best attempts to initiate that opinion around the office as well."

Phil paused. "So do you want us to call you a fiend?"

"Not unless you believe it," she replied with a shrug.  "Otherwise I haven't earned the title."

"I'll see what I can do," Phil said, expression placid as he shook his head.

"So we have our new target?" Natasha asked, unclipping the report from the clipboard and offering it to Phil.

"Yes," Phil said, accepting the report and handing her the new file. "We have a target and the password so all you have to do is get in and order a drink."

She opened the file, looking over it and holding it so Clint could see it, "You want to go in or shall I?"

"I can," he said.

"Aren't you still hung over from last time?" Phil asked.

"He'll be up to it by tonight," Natasha said, considering the information they had.  She glanced at Clint, "You'll be more effective at this one too."

"Oh good," he said, leaning his chin against her shoulder. "And I promise not to drink too much."

"No one believes you," Phil said, shaking his head.

She reached up with one hand to run it over Clint's sandy blond hair, "You could surprise Phil and Sitwell and hold to that tonight."

"I could," he agreed and grinned, giving no indication if he would or not. Laughing, Natasha shook her head slightly and turned enough to pick up a pencil to start scribbling notes on the file Phil had handed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies to our lovely readers and reviewers. We were hoping to have this up last weekend and then lo and behold grad school started again and Medda forgot to put it up. So again, deepest apologies.


	6. Bee Ophrys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Error

Smoothing out his appearance and reminding himself of both the good and bad things about lying to someone who didn't actually know him, Loki stepped up to the door of Laufey's center of power, knocking firmly upon it.  When it opened he slid his foot into the doorway and offered the man at the door a thin smile, "I've come to treat with Laufey."

After a search, which he bore with gritted teeth while wondering if they really thought he was stupid enough to try anything so overt against a gang lord in his own territory, he was shown into the main room.  In contrast with the golden opulence of Asgard, Laufey's base was shadowed and cool—Loki could pick out a minimum of seven men scattered around in the shadows.  He paused when his eyes landed on Laufey and he offered the gang lord a deep bow, "Sir."

"You are not one I expected to see here," Laufey said, sharpening a pair of knives.

Loki straightened, his gaze moving to the knives, considering their quality as best he could from a distance, "And who else would you expect?"

"A grand and moronic gesture from your older brother-that-is-not," Laufey said, looking at him through lowered eyes. "I assume you have come to beg for his life."

That earned a dismissive snort, "No, I've not.  I've simply come to ask if you truly like to be used as Odin's butcher?"

That caught the attention of several onlookers and Laufey stilled, expression turning dangerous. "Explain yourself well, Odinson."

Loki kept himself steady under the crime lord's attention, speaking clearly and to the point, "Thor didn't commit the murder of your son and people.  It was sanctioned by Odin and carried out by two of his men. Odin could not deal with Thor himself, and so he has cast him adrift and set you on a path to kill his son for him."

"That is a very heavy accusation to lay at the door of your father," Laufey said, voice quiet in the still room.

"I heard him give the orders," Loki answered steadily. "Thor's a threat to him, but he's well-loved and therefore Odin can do nothing to him."

"Explain further," Laufey said, no longer sharpening the knives but leaning forward to watch Loki's face more closely.

"The loyalty of Odin's lieutenants rests not with him but with Thor. It has been a gradual shift, but as of now no more than a handful of members in Odin's gang are truly loyal to him.  They follow Thor.  They love Thor dearly," Loki knew exactly how much truth there was in those words and the beauty of a true lie rested in believing the truth of it fully.

"You think Odin was trying to hit two birds with one stone?" Laufey asked, shoulders bunching as he rested his chin on his large hands. "Weaken me and kill the shining boy?"

"I have little doubt of it," Loki replied.  "You've been at odds with him for decades, you know as well as I do that he is not above such things."

"I am well aware of the things he's willing to do," Laufey said, mouth thin and eyes cold. "Probably even more than you could hope to imagine."

The young man paused at that, considering Laufey's words before he inclined his head, "Of course, sir."

"Do you have proof Thor did not do it?" Laufey asked.

"I found him in that alley," Loki replied. "It was staged well, but he was too disoriented to have done it, still getting to his own feet when I rounded that corner into the destruction there."

For a long moment Laufey looked at him. "He was rather adamant, and unlike you he is not known as a liar."

Loki mentally breathed a sigh of relief that for once his brother's reputation was doing him some good, "He's also known for perhaps too much honor.  An action like this is out of character for him."

"Unless he's lost his mind," Laufey said, still watching Loki.

That earned a wry curl of Loki's lips and he shook his head, "That would have been an abrupt drop into madness and a rapid ascent out of it. I am certain he had nothing to do with the deaths of your son and men beyond being set up."

"His death would still be a boon to me," Laufey said. "Why shouldn't I pretend I believe Odin long enough to kill his only son?"

"Because it would serve you better to have someone else in charge of Asgard.  To remove Thor would bring the weight of Odin's gang down upon you.  To leave him alone, would keep that from happening.  Odin's men trust Thor, and Thor trusts me.  What you need is—" 

He broke off as the phrase Laufey had chosen finally sank in and his green eyes narrowed.  He cursed his lack of sleep for not picking up on the words before that, as his voice dropped dangerously, "What do you mean _only_ son?"

Laufey's laugh was low and rolled around the room, answered by a few chuckles. "So he never told you. I had assumed as much."

Loki rocked back on his heels at that, feeling like something was about to get yanked out from under him, "Told me what?"

"That you were not born of him or his wife," Laufey said. "I thought you would have figured it out by now." He pushed himself to his feet. "So you would have me leave Thor alive in the hope that when he comes to power you could manipulate him to my advantage?"

Trying to regain his mental ground again, Loki nodded, but found his voice caught as pieces slotted into place to confirm what Laufey alleged, "In essence, yes, that is what I am suggesting."

"You're asking me to put a lot of faith in your abilities," Laufey remarked, and started to circle Loki.

Loki forced himself not to turn and follow Laufey's track around him, "You're the one who believed I was here to beg for Thor's life in the first place.  I know where my shortcomings are, and they lie in gaining trust or loyalty from Odin's men.  However, I have both when it comes to Thor and he has it from the rest, or very nearly."

"So you are begging for his life," Laufey said from behind him.

"Yes and no," Loki said, shoulders tightening. "It would be in both our interests to have him alive, while not in Odin's.  I certainly have a more personal stake in it, but I also know that whatever decision you determine will be the choice you make and no amount of _begging_ as you put it will change that in the end."

"I've been amenable to it in the past," Laufey said, behind him. "If done prettily enough."

Loki whirled at that, green eyes flashing before he caught hold of his temper and suppressed it again, "I have never in my life begged."

Laufey's smile was cold as he watched him. "It's a skill you might want to practice then. It comes in useful when your lies and tricks no longer work."

Loki felt his pride curling and fighting him as he finally spoke again, "What would you take for his life?"

"I've not decided yet," Laufey said, completing his original circuit and now at Loki's back again. "Are you certain he's still alive?"

This time Loki turned to face him immediately, his panic from the night before rising in his throat once more, "Certain?  No."

"So you would make promises without realizing their worth," Laufey said. "You are desperate."

"I have made no promise to you," the younger man answered.

"But you were prepared to," Laufey said.

Loki shook his head, though it was almost hesitant, "Contingent upon his life."

"Last I saw he was alive," Laufey said. "But you were running full tilt toward whatever I asked without being certain."

"I came directly to you, that alone should speak volumes of my desperation," Loki finally conceded, though the words tasted foul on his tongue.

"It's a nice sight on an Odinson," Laufey said, returning to his seat.

"Which you say I am not," Loki replied before he caught it.

"It is still the name you carry," Laufey said. "Not a biological marker of your blood."

"By no choice of mine," he looked Laufey over. "Nor by yours, I would wager."

Laufey's smile was thin. "My choice?"

"What was it that he charged you your son for?"

"So you are intelligent," Laufey smiled, leaning back and steepling his fingers. "I had worried you might not be. He had one son, I had three, though now it seems we are both down to only one again. He took you as the spoils of war, hoping it would bring a lasting peace as if I would not kill my own blood as quickly as his."

Loki's lips twisted into a mockery of a smile at that, "Odin and his quests for peace will be his downfall one of these days, I'm sure."

"Why do you think I keep allowing them?" Laufey returned.

"To your health then, Laufey.  May you outlast Odin and his quests for peace."

"You realize I will be asking for a head in exchange for the other one, don't you?" Laufey said, watching him with hooded eyes.

"I would expect nothing less," he answered evenly.

"Good," Laufey said. "Then I will call off the hunt for Thor for now. But it is not permanent, Odinson."

Loki's jaw tensed and he inclined his head, "You'll have your price, sir."  He offered another deep bow, "Good day."

"Good day," Laufey said, laugh a deep rumble. "When I have Odin's bloody heart and those responsible, I'll even offer Thor my protection beyond withdrawing the threat on his life."

Loki's lips curled upward at that, "I have your word on that?"

"Yes," Laufey said.

"Then you shall have it," Loki offered a final bow before leaving the way he had come.

As he left, the first rumble of thunder could be heard over the city. Pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders, Loki offered the sky a wary look and hurried home.  Now to find a way to offer Odin and two others up to Laufey.  He would worry about that after the storm had passed—thunder played hell with his focus and nerves.

Moments after he walked in, by the third roll of thunder, the phone started ringing. Loki shrugged out of his coat and picked up the phone, snapping into the receiver, "What?"

"I'm sorry," Thor said. "I forgot last night."

Sagging against the phone table, Loki felt relief flood through him.  If he had agreed to killing Odin without assurance that Thor was alive there would be no retreat for him at all, "You utter and complete bastard.  I thought you were dead!"

"I am not," Thor said, almost laughing. Though he felt bedraggled after trailing after Tony for the second day in a row. "I am sorry."

"You better damn well be.  I was sure I, I thought...."He broke off, snarling, "You should have called."

"I should have," he agreed, sitting against the wall. "How are you?"

"Fine." Loki replied, his voice still tense and he startled at another clap of thunder.

"As fine as you ever are in a thunderstorm then?" Thor amended.

His jaw tensed, and for once in his life he answered honestly, if acerbically, "As fine as I ever am in a thunderstorm when I've barely slept in three days."

"You haven't slept?" Thor asked, voice dropping.

Sinking down to sit with his back against the table, Loki let his eyes close, "Of course not.  I've been worried sick that you've gotten yourself killed every night."

"I'm safe, Loki," Thor said, voice soothing. "And I will remain so."

He rested his forehead against his knees, "I hope you will.  But I didn't know last night."

"Anthony stayed out late," Thor said. "And I saw father. I-I only wished to go to bed by the time I was home and allowed to."

Loki's jaw tensed, "Allowed to?"

"They were worried about me," Thor said.

He tried to find a way to respond to that and gave it up as a hopeless cause, startling at another thunderclap, "But you're safe, still?"

"Yes, and they have given me a place to stay," Thor said. "The apartment is still being watched by Laufey's men."

"Do you need anything from there?" Loki asked after a long moment.

"No," Thor said. "Is your apartment being watched, do you know?"

"I haven't seen anyone if it is.  And, yes, I have checked."

Thor almost launched himself from where he was sitting to go there, thunder and rain storm and dark night or no. "Good," he said and his voice had gotten rougher.

Loki curled closer in on himself as another flash of lightning split the sky outside, "I miss you."

"It has only been a few days," Thor said and did not comment on how it felt like months already.

"And it has been an extremely stressful few days that neither of us was sure you would make it through," he replied, though his tone was far quieter than he'd intended.

"But I did," Thor said, leaning his head back against the wall. "That has to count for something, doesn't it?"

"For something, yes.  It doesn't make me miss you less," he was going to blame his honesty on a lack of sleep and deny it had anything to do with the comfort he got from Thor's voice, especially during a storm.

"It's odd," he said. "I've seen father, I've seen Sif and the others, but I have not seen you or mother. How is mother doing?"

"She's worried about you, but beyond that she seems to be holding up alright."

"I'm glad," Thor said, staring at the ceiling.

"Where did you see the others?" Loki asked after a long pause, finally lifting his head from his knees.

"At my apartment," Thor said. "They were determined to drop clothes off at Stark's building if they had to, but Anthony had the same idea."

"That was kind of them." He paused, frowning, "You went back to your apartment?  Do you have no concept at all of the idea of keeping yourself safe?"

"It was not my plan," Thor protested. "It was Anthony's and he is very insistent. Besides, they had already taken care of the security, luckily for us."

"He's going to get you killed."

"No," Thor said, "He already saved my life and I do not believe that he is—well," he rubbed the back of his neck, sore from the fight Tony had gotten them into in a speak where a thug had grabbed his ponytail, nearly pulling it out as he banged Thor's face against the table until Thor got his legs back underneath him and flipped the thug. "It will be fine."

"So he knows what this city has for him?  The fact that as new blood he's got an even bigger target on his back?" Loki snapped, growing agitated between the storm and the fact that he may have agreed to save Thor only for him to get killed as guard to some new moron in the city.

"I'm working on it," Thor rumbled, running his hand through his hair in annoyance.

"You'd better be," he flinched at the next peal of thunder, hating hearing Thor but not seeing him on a night like that.

Thor almost walked across the city at the tight tone in Loki's voice. "Are you safe?"

"As I ever am. No one trusts me, but that's nothing new," Loki murmured.

"You've never given them much of a reason to trust you," Thor said and rested his head against his knees.

"I've never needed or wanted them to," came the answer. "I didn't...I didn't think that through very well."

"They haven't given you a problem, have they?" Thor asked after a beat. "Sif and the others."

"She's accused me explicitly of all of this and Fandral came by to find out if I've heard from you," Loki sighed. "Nothing more than that."

"All things considered," Thor hummed. "It's not bad. They could have done worse if—if they thought you had something to do with this."

Loki drew back from the phone enough to stare at it before speaking again, "Yes, they could have, and I'm not sure I trust them not to."

"They won't," Thor said because he did trust his allies. "You're already in early," he said, clumsily changing the subject.

"There was nothing pressing that Odin needed of me, and I didn't want to get caught in the storm," Loki answered, truthful but careful with his omissions.

"Will you be in so early tomorrow?" Thor asked.

"I don't know.  Probably," he admitted.  "Why?"

"I would rather know when to call you again," Thor said, leaning his head toward the window as lightning flashed. He did not want to give Loki Jane's number yet.

"I'll be here," Loki answered, curling in closer again.  "You'll be better to call later though.  Just in case."

"I tried calling you this morning," Thor admitted. "But you had already gone."

"I thought it best to get to Asgard early today."

Thor listened to the thunder. "You won't sleep tonight, will you?"

"Of course I will."

"No you won't," Thor said, remembering when Loki was a child and would crawl into bed with him during storms. "I could tell you a story."

"I'm not some child in need of comfort, Thor," Loki snapped.

"I know," Thor said, voice warming and he curled around the phone more.

"I'll sleep tonight.  I'll surely get more than I did last night."

"Did you not sleep last night?" Thor asked. "Was it because I failed to call?"

Loki mentally cursed his nerves, "I think I may have gotten an hour.  Perhaps two."

Thor paused for a long moment. "Loki, if I give you this number I need your promise—your assurance—that there is no time you would try to take action against this people."

"Would you believe me, even if I did give that?" Loki asked, quietly.

"Could you swear it three times?" Thor asked after a beat.

He was sorely tempted to hang up, but finally sighed, "I swear thrice over that I will not take action against the people who have taken you in."

"I care about them," Thor said. "And they have been very kind to me and they do not have much."

"I swear that I will not take action against them," Loki repeated, reminding himself not to grit his teeth as he did so.

"Thank you, brother," Thor said and quietly told him the number.

Making a mental note of it, Loki promised himself that he would write it down when he finally managed to uncurl, "You like them a lot, then?"

"I do," Thor agreed. "They are kind—truly, kind in ways I am not used to seeing. They run a soup kitchen, even."

Loki paused at that, biting off his first thought, "They sound....charming."

"You have never had much use for kindness unless you could use it," Thor said, laughing faintly. "But they are and it... it is nice. Though I tore one of their sheets by accident."

"You tore one of their sheets?" Loki chuckled, "How did you manage that?"

"I was trying to fold it," Thor said, sounding surly. "It was being difficult."

"So you managed to tear it?"

"Yes," Thor said. "Not quite in half."

That actually earned a true laugh, "I can't believe you managed to tear one of their sheets."

"I was not my brightest moment," Thor admitted but he beamed to the opposite wall to have made his brother laugh.

"What were you doing handling sheets anyway?" Loki asked, leaning his head back against the table.

"Darcy asked for help," Thor said.

"Darcy?"  Loki startled, nearly dropping the phone at a thunderclap that sounded right over his building.

"She works and lives here," Thor said. "She enjoys dancing lead and shoving cookies at me when my mouth is open."

"She sounds nice, and she had you folding laundry."

Thor paused. "You could possibly sound less enthusiastic," he rumbled.

"I'm trying to picture you fighting and vanquishing a sheet of fabric," Loki admitted, smiling.

"It was a mighty battle," Thor agreed cheerfully, even though his hand was holding the phone a little too tightly.

"How could it be anything less?"  He paused after a moment, "I should let you return to those charming people."

"Are you jealous?" Thor asked before he could bite it back.

"What?" Loki managed to sound offended at that, "Why would I be jealous?"

"The number of times you've said charming," Thor explained.

"I've barely slept in the last three days, I think I have some excuse for not having full grasp on my vocabulary right now."

"You still sound jealous," Thor said.

Loki frowned, curling further in on himself, "So what if I am?  They've got you and I don't."

There was a long moment of silence. "I won't be gone forever."

"Promise?" Loki’s voice came out needier than he would ever admit.

"You think this entire city could keep me away?" Thor asked but he held himself completely still as he said it.

That earned a long pause as Loki weighed the words before replying, "No.  Of course not."

"Then yes, I promise," Thor said. "Nothing will keep me from you for long."

"Good.  I'll hold you to that," the other murmured, trying not to dwell too much at the moment on what Laufey had told him.  "Take care of yourself until then."

"As I expect you to," Thor said. "Be careful, brother."

"Always, Thor," Loki replied.  "Good night."

Thor did not want to put the phone down. "Good night, Loki."

Hesitating for another long moment, Loki finally hung up, setting the phone aside and curling his arms around his legs.  He had Laufey's word that Thor was temporarily safe, but he had no idea how long that would last, or how long he had to give Laufey the price he had demanded.

For a long moment Thor did not move, head bowed down and looking at the phone. There was a soft knock on the doorway, Eric standing there, "Thor?"

"Eric," he greeted, head rising. "How are you tonight?" A black eye was already forming where he had been punched earlier.

"I'm doing well, though that eye of yours looks like it could use something on it," he said, his gaze drifting toward the phone.

"It will be fine," Thor shrugged it off but then paused. "Do you have any skill in cutting hair, though?"

Eric paused before nodding, "It's something I've got some experience with.  You want yours cut, then?"

"Yes," Thor said even though he had spent quite some time growing it out. It was only a disadvantage in a fight and he no longer had the protection he used to.

"We can deal with it in the kitchen, whenever you like," Eric said.  He paused for a moment, “You made your nightly call, then?"

"Has it become so obvious as that?" Thor sighed.

"You've spent a good amount of time nearly every night since we found you on the phone with _someone_ ," the other man agreed, nodding slightly.

"My brother," Thor said, finally setting the phone where it belonged and pushing himself to his feet. "And he has never liked thunderstorms."

Eric looked toward the front of the soup kitchen at another roll of thunder, "Is he doing alright?"

"He insists, as he ever does, that he is alright," Thor said, moving into the kitchen. "But something sounded off all night."

Finding a pair of scissors in the catch-all drawer, Eric set them down on the table, "How so?"

"Like he was worried about something and did not wish to tell me," Thor said and shook his head. "Which, I suppose has been the very nature of our relationship since the beginning."

"He's your younger brother?" Eric pulled a chair out from the table, gesturing to it.

"Yes," Thor said, fingering the ends of his hair as he sat.

"What's he like?" Eric considered Thor's hair for a moment, "How much of this do you want cut off?"

"Most of it," Thor said, gesturing. "It is too easy to grab and use." He hesitated, wondering how to describe Loki. "As for my brother he is... proud and willful and cunning and darkly amusing."

"Have you tried to see him since this all began?" Eric carefully gathered a lock of Thor's hair, cutting it off and working along bit by bit to shorten it.

"Not yet," Thor said. He had already decided to go the next day or the one after.

"You're worried about him," Eric observed.

"I'm always worried about him," Thor replied. "It's like breathing at this point. Take a breath, wonder how Loki's doing, take another breath."

Eric finished with the initial cut and went back to even it out, "With the state of things, I'd imagine he's not far off from that sentiment either."

Thor did not correct him to the fact this had nothing to do with their current situation. Instead he looked down at his hands for a moment before sliding his eyes back up. "I am sorry for invading your lives," he said faintly, because Darcy had never allowed him to apologize for suddenly moving in.

"We have room, and you help in the soup kitchen," Eric said, though it didn't come as quickly as it would when Jane or Darcy was brushing aside the apologies.

"Then thank you," Thor amended.

"You're welcome."  He paused before evening a couple of more locks, "I'll be honest with you, I'm not sure how happy I am with you being here, considering what's going on.  But we've got a place for you, and like Jane's said, you're welcome to stay."

"Your disapproval has not been entirely subtle," Thor said. "Though you have still been very kind."

That earned a huff of breath from Eric, "You showed up covered in blood and nearly got yourself shot shortly thereafter.  But you're not a bad sort, considering what you're probably involved in."

"Probably involved in," Thor repeated, wanting to shake his head. "Does this have to do with the list of questions Jane and Darcy have created?"

"This has a lot to do with the list of questions Jane and Darcy have created.  I will insist on that ‘probably,’ I'd like some plausible deniability left."

Thor's smile was unseen. "Yes. That may be best for you in the long run."

Eric finally chuckled, before falling silent.  The snip of the scissors was all that was heard for a long moment, "Just be careful.  The girls like you, and, hell, I do too."

"I will," Thor promised. "As careful as I may be."

"That's all I can ask," he set the scissors down and brushed hair off of Thor's shoulders.  "And that's about what I can do for you here too."

"Thank you," Thor said, running a hand through his shorn hair but still offering Eric a smile.

Eric returned the smile faintly as he fetched a broom for the clippings, "You're welcome."

"For everything," Thor extended. "I can help pay for the phone as well." Tony still had a habit of throwing money at him randomly and Thor had just taken to accepting that as his salary.

"We'll see if it's needed when the time comes around to pay it, but we use it so rarely that I think it'll be fine.  Unless you would prefer to help pay for that," he amended after thinking about it.

"I would if I am able," Thor said. "It is the least I could do."

Eric nodded, sweeping up the blond hair from the tiles, "Then it would be appreciated."

Thor watched him a moment. "Thank you again," he said. "I hope you sleep well tonight."

"And you as well.  Good night, Thor," Eric finished cleaning up the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Looking out the window, Thor went upstairs several minutes later. Even though he was tired when he crawled into bed, he spent most of the night listening to the thunder and staring at the ceiling.

o-o-o

Clint breezed into the speakeasy, dropping the password without any trouble and not even much planning to get drunk that night. Except once he was through the door and into the shadowy spaces, he froze. Bruce looked up from where he was talking to the barkeep about the injured man in the backroom, assuring him that he would return later to check on him, but that the man had been thoroughly dosed with painkillers and should sleep for a couple of hours.  The doctor fell still when he spotted Clint, ignoring the bartender's questions as he started across the room toward the other man.

Waiting another two heartbeats Clint turned around and all but ran out of the speak, going right past Natasha. "Clint!"  His partner turned on her heel, reaching for him and narrowly missing her grab, "What the hell?"

"We'll do it tomorrow," he said, sliding away easily.

"Tomorrow?  Clint, what are you—" She broke off as there was a clatter at the entrance to the speakeasy, Bruce emerging and looking around quickly before spotting Clint and heading toward him.

"Clint, wait."

"It can keep," Clint told her and started moving away, ignoring the clap of thunder.

Natasha frowned at him, but drew back to go and report that they were going to try again tomorrow, "You're going to explain this to me.  Tomorrow." Waving at her, Clint ducked around the corner and increased his pace without running.

Ignoring the red-haired woman, Bruce picked up speed and rounded the corner, hurrying after Clint, "Clint, wait!"

"I don't want to know," Clint shot back over his shoulder and realized that might only contain half his thoughts. "I mean—bad place to be so I don't want to know."

Bruce shook his head as he finally caught up, falling into step with the other, "I was not coming after you to explain why I was there."

"Really? Because that might be a good thing to try," Clint said and almost sped up again.

"Do you want to know or don't you?" Bruce replied, sharply.

"No, I don't," Clint said, shaking his head.

"I was there as a doctor, no more no less," Bruce finally said, glancing at him.  "What were you there for?"

"My job," Clint said, not looking over at him.

Bruce stumbled slightly but recovered as the rain started to come down heavily, "Of all the nights for you to show up there.  Please tell me at least you're with the legal side shutting them down and not there for some sort of meet."

Clint finally looked at him. "What's it matter to you?"

"Why shouldn't it matter to me?  I've seen what happens to the people who are involved in meets gone south," Bruce pulled his coat closer around him.

"It shouldn't matter to you because you don't know me," Clint said, stance angry and wary.

"So you're saying I should only care about people I know well?" Bruce replied, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Seriously?" was all Clint asked before he started moving away again.

Bruce drew a steadying breath and hurried to catch up with him, "You're right.  I don't know you now, but I can still hope you made out at least mostly alright with yourself, can't I?"

"Don't have much right to it," Clint said, going back to avoiding his eyes.

"Never said I did," Bruce muttered, but he finally caught Clint by the arm to slow him down a pace.  "But I admit to occasionally wondering what happened to you after I patched you up."

"Well, I survived," Clint shrugged.

"I'm glad."

"Why?" Clint snapped. "There is no reason for you to be glad that a stranger survived after he all but punched you in the face for stitching him back together."

Bruce's lips curved upward slightly, "Yeah, there wasn't any reason for me to let you stay in my apartment for a few days after that either."

"And when I figure out _why_ that happened, I'll be a lot more positive about the whole thing," Clint muttered after his breath.

"It happened because my apartment was a lot closer than the hospital and by the time I finished stitching you up I was not going to risk you popping those stitches and you were in no state to climb back down three flights of stairs," Bruce replied, frowning ever so slightly.

"Yeah, because taking a stranger into your house after he got beat into a pulp is a really smart plan."

Bruce snorted, "I've never claimed to be smart."

"Comprehensible would be a good start," Clint returned.

Shaking rainwater out of his eyes, Bruce sighed, "Also not something I have ever laid claim to."

"So I don't have to tell you how stupid it is to be in a speakeasy like that?" Clint snapped, ignoring the thunder.

"I'm aware of how stupid that is, but I get a call that I need to patch someone up I'll do it," Bruce replied, keeping his tone even.

"And that is why you're an idiot," Clint said, glaring at Bruce as lightning lit up the alley.

Turning the collar of his coat up, Bruce huffed out a breath, "Look, it's my job to do that.  To stitch idiots up when they get shot or stabbed or any number of other things.  Sometimes that puts me in god-awful places, but it's what I do."

"Illegal places," Clint returned.

"Tonight, yes," Bruce replied.

" _You_ could get shot in a place like that," Clint said. "With no one to patch you up."

Bruce looked at him for a long moment, "Is that what's got you so upset about this?  That I'm putting myself in a dangerous place?"

"That, what, no," Clint said and turned to jab a finger in Bruce's chest. "There's a lot that's got me upset, alright? Starting with the fact you followed me."

"You saw me across that speak and turned tail and left, what did you think I was going to do?" Bruce asked, taking a step back.

"Finish your business and not follow," Clint said.

Bruce crossed his arms, "What else has you upset?"

"You're supposed to be a doctor, which means being an upright citizen."

"Who told you _that_?" Bruce asked, "There's no such thing as a fully upstanding citizen."

Clint opened his mouth and closed it again. "You haven't ever met Phil Coulson, have you?" he asked, even if that was not entirely true, considering Phil's inclination to forgive the strays he picked up.

"No, no I don't believe so."  He paused, shaking his head, "I honestly don't have to justify why I was stitching someone up in that place, call it a favor to a friend."

"Friends in low places?" Clint asked, arching a brow.

"If you're going to keep asking questions I'm going to start prying about why you don't still have a French accent," Bruce replied.

Clint scowled, eyes narrowed and shoulders tight. "It's been three years."

"And usually people who immigrate don't actively lose their accent," Bruce replied, expression neutral.

"Yeah, well, it's an obvious marker of other and I had enough of that," Clint said. "Besides, I'm adaptable."

Pulling off his glasses to clear them of rain droplets, Bruce determined quickly that was a futile effort, "Look, Clint, I wasn't expecting to ever see you again after you left my place, but I'm glad you're doing as well as you appear to be."

"I could have been there for a meet," Clint muttered. "It's a big city, I didn't expect to see you either."

"If you were there for a meet, something tells me you wouldn't be having so much trouble with me being there to stitch someone up," Bruce answered.  "And so far we've managed not to run into each other.  You're not raiding the place tonight anymore, are you?"

"No, but I'm sure I can find another one to get really drunk in before calling for back up," Clint mused.

"Well, good luck.  I've probably been away from my patient too long already."

Clint was still moving with jerky motions as he waved at Bruce. "Yeah. Enjoy. Try not to invite anyone else home, huh? They might actually murder you in your sleep."

"I know you seem to doubt it, but I can actually take care of myself," Bruce muttered.

"You're still alive, so I guess I have to believe it a little," Clint said, shaking his head to get rain out of his hair, only for more to follow.

Bruce offered him a ghost of a smile at that, "Good bye, Clint.  Take care of yourself."

"I should never have told you my name," Clint muttered, already moving again. Watching him go, Bruce shook his head and lowered his hat against the downpour as he turned back the way they had come.

o-o-o

Hogun entered the soup kitchen, his dark eyebrows rising slightly as he took in the sight of Thor serving meals to the people there.  He skirted the edges of the room until he was in his friend's hearing, "Thor."

"Hogun, my friend," Thor said brightly and Darcy's entire attention snapped over.

Jane glanced over, eyebrows rising as Hogun spoke again, "We need to speak privately."

Thor glanced over at Jane and Darcy for a moment before nodding. "Of course," he said, taking a few rolls and ushering Hogun out to the back steps.

"Eavesdropping would be dangerous, wouldn't it?" Darcy asked, watching them go.

Jane bit her lip, "Probably.  But not knowing might be even more so."

Hogun waited until the door closed between them and the house before turning to Thor, "It is about Loki."

Thor didn't even look surprised but he sighed anyway, handing Hogun one of the rolls. "What about Loki?"

Accepting the roll, his friend paused before finally answering, "When Odin has not needed us we have been...keeping an eye on him.  Yesterday he went to see Laufey and walked out unharmed."

Thor did not move for a long moment. "You must," he started and stopped before insulting Hogun by saying he was mistaken. "But why? And how?"

"Neither of those things are something I can answer," Hogun replied.  "All we know is what was seen.  He went in, he was in there for a long while, and he emerged in the same condition he entered."

Turning the roll over in his hand for a moment, Thor rubbed the other against the back of his neck where his hair had been shorn off. "Do you agree with Fandral's theory he tried to have me killed?"

"I am not certain.  I believe it is a possibility that I would not entirely discount," Hogun answered him, breaking the roll in his hands in half.  "And with him meeting with Laufey?  I think it is even more likely."

Thor's mouth was a thin line. "Has there been anything else?"

"No.  Nothing else has changed since we all saw you."

"I am glad of that at least," Thor said. "And everyone is well?"

Hogun nodded, "Yes.  Everyone is well, though I am sure we are not alone in hoping you come through this safely."

He laughed then. "I am hoping I come through it safely as well."

Lips curling upward, his friend nodded, "Keep safe, especially with where you are now.  Volstagg said he saw you at the fight."

Thor nodded. "Anthony has a loud mouth," he said. "And certainly needs someone to keep him from saying stupid things to anyone at a place like that."

"Good luck.  You have experience with that, at least.  He couldn't ask for a better man at his side."

"He reminds me of Loki, actually," Thor admitted. "Except—less bitter and drunker."

"God help us if that's the case," Hogun murmured.

Thor laughed, shaking his head. "I almost hope they never meet."

Hogun shook his head, mouth twisting wryly, "That would be a sight to behold."

"Thank you for telling me," Thor said, unsure how he felt entirely about the others following his brother, and less for the news they brought him.

His friend nodded, "Keep safe."  Touching the brim of his hat, Hogun slipped away down the back alley to return to Asgard. Thor watched him go, finally eating the roll he still held, still touching the back of his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, sorry for the time between chapters. Your authors have been buried in work for grad school and emotionally exhausted as well. We would love to hear from you about how you like the story and the chapter.


	7. Mourning Bride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunate Attachment

Natasha entered the office the day after the raid that they hadn't actually carried out.  She tossed her coat over a chair and perched on the desk nearest the door, earning a protest from Sitwell whose desk it was.  Offering him a glance she pulled out a knife and started cleaning her nails, her gaze focused on the door to wait for her partner. Clint slunk in a little late, Phil only just preparing to return to the apartment to fetch him.

Natasha stopped cleaning her nails to point at him with the knife, "You.  Sit.  Explain."

"There's nothing to explain," he said, though he sat.

"How about any excuse as to why we didn't run the raid like we were planning last night?" She suggested, turning her attention back to her nails for a moment before closing the knife and stashing it away again.

For a long moment Clint didn't, studiously ignoring everyone else in the room. "There was someone there I didn't expect."

She sighed, crossing her legs at the knee, "The man who came out after you?"

"That's not a very good guess, all things considered, it's the obvious one," Clint returned.

"It didn't need to be a good guess, it just needed to be the right one," Natasha answered.  "Who is he?"

Clint waved a hand about to say no one, or just someone before deciding that was stupid. "A doctor."

"Must be a hell of a doctor," Sitwell said, reaching around Natasha to grab a pen from where it was lying next to her.

Natasha considered that answer before tilting her head back, "Hey, Phil, you know any doctors that would cause Clint to walk out?"

"No," Phil said, because Clint had only shown up on his doorstep when he was half healed. Bruce had been between stepping off the boat and finding Phil's apartment. "I don't—I don't think so."

"Interesting.  Because apparently there is one in this city," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.  Her attention shifted back to her partner, "Are we going to be able to actually do the raid tonight, do you think?"

"Yes," Clint said and ignored the way Phil was watching him

Natasha leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and fix Clint with a long look, "And does this doctor have a name?"

"Yes, which is irrelevant to the conversation," Clint said. "Because, no you're not looking him up to pester him about this."

"What was he doing there?" She countered, ignoring what he said.

"Fixing someone up, more or less," Clint said, hoping that was still true but finding the notion of a speakeasy call questionable.

Her eyebrows rose sharply at that, "In a _speak_?"

"Yeah," he said, shoulders hunching. "And I didn't want to press, okay? He had a kit and everything though, there was legitimate doctoring going on."

"Nothing is legitimate in a speak," Phil protested.

"I'm coming down on Phil's side, here," Natasha agreed.  "There is no way he was there for legal reasons."

"Is there a situation where a doctor stitching someone up is illegal, if they don't ask questions, I mean," Sitwell asked, deciding that any work he was going to get done would have to wait until Natasha was no longer seated on his desk.

"I'd be more worried that he was their choice," Phil said. "And willing to go. It smacks of establishment with the underworld."

Natasha nodded, waving a hand in Phil's direction and never taking her eyes off of Clint, "What he just said.  So who is he?"

Clint scowled, itching to just turn and leave. "It doesn't really matter. We'll raid the place tonight and he'll probably just disappear for another three years."

"And if he doesn't disappear for three years?"  his partner pressed, frowning almost imperceptibly.

Clint shrugged, sliding away and finding paperwork to hold in front of himself as if it was a possible shield. "Look, we are at work, aren't we?"

"We've got everything in order for tonight already, and we're kind of between points when it comes to other things," Natasha replied, finally sliding off of Sitwell's desk to cross over to where Clint was.

"Great," Clint said. "Well the public interrogation is over."

Natasha arched an eyebrow, "Are you going to tell me now that I'm not sitting on Sitwell's desk?" Clint stared at her for another moment and looked at Phil before turning around and sitting at his desk. Natasha drew a deep breath and sat down on the other side of his desk, "I'm worried about you, Clint.  Seeing him threw you off."

"I'm fine," he said, not looking up.

"And I'm Florence Harding," she drawled in response.  "Really, Clint, would it kill you to talk for once?"

"Yes," he said, not looking up.

"Alright, I'll call retreat then, but you know Phil won't," Natasha said, picking up some papers to go over them.

"Yes, but he won't do it in public," Clint muttered, looking down.

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "No, you're right, that was a bad approach."

"Yeah," he said, eyes sliding over to Sitwell and the other desks before back to where the papers were on his desk. "That was a bad approach."

"I get too direct when I'm worried, you know that."  She drew a deep breath and finally managed the words, "I'm sorry."

That caused Clint's eyes to flicker up when a hand landed on his shoulder. "Let's get coffee," Phil said behind him. "Now."

Natasha glanced up at Phil, her eyebrows arching as she darted her gaze back to Clint, "Good luck."

"Oh you can come too," Phil shrugged, already heading for the door. Sweeping up her coat as she rose and having no intention of being left out of the loop, Natasha followed.

Clint sighed, trailing after them, and letting Phil order the coffee before ushering them into a back table, away from others and where Clint could keep his back to the wall and still not have his face seen by the other customers. "This is still public."

"But not people you know," Phil said.

Natasha curled her hands around the coffee cup, her gaze darting toward the front of the cafe, "It's just the three of us."

"So there are only four days where I cannot account for you," Phil said. "Since you reached the United States."

"Yeah," Clint agreed.

"And if Phil doesn't know about this guy, the last time you saw him would have been in those four days, yes?" Natasha sipped at her drink, watching her partner.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, swallowing too much hot coffee at once. "It was a funny story of being waylaid on my way to your place."

"If it's that funny, why haven't I heard it?" Phil asked, brow going up.

"Waylaid for four days?" Natasha paused at that, "How badly did you get yourself 'waylaid' for that to happen?"

"You did show up looking a bit worse for the wear," Phil mused.

Clint sighed, running a hand over his eyes. "Alright. I got myself left in an alley and a doctor was kind enough to pick me up and feed me for several days until I was back on my feet. It was a debt, okay?" Natasha weighed his words before finally nodding, debts she could understand.

"Which is why you called it off," Phil said and Clint nodded. "And that was all so hard to say?"

"I don't like debts," Clint muttered. "You should know that, sir."

For once Phil didn't correct him but he winced slightly.

Setting her cup down and keeping her hands curled around it, Natasha looked Clint over, "You've repaid the debt then.  Are you feeling it's settled?"

For a moment Clint obviously considered before he shrugged. "I guess. I'm not sure yet. I mean, making sure someone isn't arrested isn't quite the same thing, is it?"

Phil frowned over at him, calmly sipping the coffee automatically. Natasha's brow rose sharply at that, "Perhaps not, but if you think you may be doing this again we need to figure out some way for you to let me know beyond 'we're not doing this tonight'."

"I'll figure something out," Clint muttered. "It's not likely to happen again."

"Except now that you've said that, you're probably going to end up seeing him again," Natasha replied, shaking her head.

He blinked. "You're just paranoid."

"Justifiably so, in this town," Phil replied, still sipping.

"I will stick by what I said and my paranoia has served me well so far," she said, watching Clint.

He shrugged, downing the coffee that remained quickly. "Yeah, well, if you say so I guess it must be true. It would take a crazier man than I to argue with you."

That earned a brief laugh as Natasha raised her cup to him in a sort of toast, "And here I thought you were the craziest I would ever meet."

"Well, if they don't exist, then no one is going to argue with you," Clint grinned.

Lips curling upward, Natasha nodded, "Well, then I suppose I'll have to go through life without that sort of conflict."

"Which you will find so difficult," Phil remarked, tone mild.

"Well, but of course," Natasha replied with a faint hint of sarcasm in her tone.  "After all, what's life without a little clashing now and then?"

"We clash enough with scoundrels and other criminals," Clint said. "I don't know, I think a relationship without arguing would be nice."

"That also implies any of us could actually manage to hold down a relationship long enough to reach a stage of arguing or not arguing," Natasha mused.

Phil looked between them for a moment and Clint sighed. "We do have a horrible track record there, don't we?" he mused and Clint sighed again.

Natasha rested her chin on her hand and nodded, "We're all just slightly too crazy to actually make a relationship work, I think."

"You keep using the word crazy," Clint muttered.

"Do you have a better word for us?" she responded, arching an eyebrow.

"Inclined toward disaster, maybe?" Clint offered and Phil snorted.

"Accurate, but wordier," Natasha conceded.

"Less negative connotations," Phil said, finishing his coffee and sitting the cup down before pinning Clint with a look. "Tonight will go well?"

"Yes, sir," Clint nodded and Phil scowled.

"Don't call me sir."

Natasha set her cup down finally and rose, "Alright then.  Shall we head back?"

"There is still paperwork to finish," Phil agreed.

"We work for the federal government," Clint said, pushing himself to his feet. "There is _always_ paperwork."

o-o-o

Loki rubbed his eyes as he shouldered the door to his building open.  He had gotten to sleep when the thunder had finally stopped around two and he'd gotten up at ten to go to Asgard for the day and had run errands on his way home.  Normally eight hours of sleep was an unreachable goal and was more than enough—with how little he'd been sleeping since framing Thor for murder it was barely scratching the surface of what he needed.

He climbed the stairs to his apartment and froze on the last flight when he saw a familiar face there.  Quickly clearing the shock from his stance and expression he smiled, "Thor!  What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," Thor answered, looking up through the smoke of his cigarette, black eye obvious and hair cut shorter than it had been in years, his elbows braced on his knees.

Green eyes skimming over him, Loki carefully stepped around him to unlock the apartment door, "Daring of you to come and sit and wait.  You cut your hair."

"It was a weakness in a fight," Thor said, blowing out another cloud of smoke and watching Loki without rising. "And you said no one was watching you, and Anthony is already locked in to his apartment with Miss Potts to do paperwork for what sounded like the rest of the night."

"I said as far as I knew there was no one watching me," Loki corrected, fumbling for a moment before finally getting the door open.  He glanced at Thor, frowning at the smoke, "You know that'll probably kill you."

"You mean like you tried to?" Thor asked, voice entirely neutral.

Caught off-guard, Loki froze for the briefest of moments before trying to recover, "What on earth are you talking about?"  He mentally ran down a list of where the nearest weapon he might be able to use was.  He had a knife sheathed at the small of his back and a handgun holstered at his side, but Thor would see him going for either of those and anything else was inside.

"Would you deny it then?" Thor asked, flicking ash off the cigarette and pushing himself to his feet.

"You've come here to accuse me of attempting to murder you and you expect me to do anything _but_ deny it?" Loki shot back, pushing the door to his apartment open and taking a step backwards through the frame.

Thor followed him, shuffling him into the apartment enough that he could close the door behind them. "Every story you told me is different from the one the others tell me. You even went to see Laufey yesterday. I know honesty is not easy for you, but try it this once, brother."

"I went to Laufey to beg for your life after Odin cast you on his non-existent mercy," Loki spat.  "I don't know what you think you know, but you presume to know more than you do."

Thor paused, leaning back against the door and watching Loki. "Even though you were the one to convince Odin to cast me out in the first place?"

Loki's eyes darted briefly toward the window and the fire escape before he curtailed the search for an exit, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Moving quickly, Thor snatched Loki's chin and tilted it back. "Brother," he rumbled. "You surely do."

Loki twisted his head, taking a solid step back to wrench his chin from Thor's grasp, "Don't touch me.  How dare you come here and accuse me of this when I've been worrying myself to illness over your fate!"

Thor took another step forward. "Because I have heard such worrying things and I need to know where we stand."

Continuing to retreat, Loki nearly tripped over his phone table, catching its edges to balance it, "What have you heard?"

"That you actually convinced Odin to reject me," Thor said. "That you went to Laufey and emerged without injury, and for that matter my own muddled memories of that night."

"I told Odin what had happened and he took it as opportunity to deal with you without harming you himself.  As for Laufey, I entered unarmed to treat with him in the hope of clemency for you," Loki replied, feeling the threads of his lies snapping around him.

"And what did you offer him in return?" Thor asked.

"You say that as though we reached an agreement."

"He would have no other reason for letting you go," Thor said, and kept approaching. "You tell me one thing, Father another, and Sif something else. There's a lie somewhere," he said, sliding his hand around Loki's jaw, his fingers at the back of his neck. "So where is it?"

"When was the last time you remember me being entirely honest with Sif?" He all but spat the name, green eyes widening at the touch on his neck.  Loki was well aware of how strong Thor was and how little it would take for him to snap his neck if he decided to.  He reached behind him, his fingers closing on the knife in its sheathe, "I have lied to no one."

"Did you try to kill me, Loki?" Thor asked again, aware of the motion.

"How can you ask me that?" Loki replied, eyes narrowing, "Why would I want you dead?"

"Power, jealousy, plots within plots to get what you think you want," Thor lifted his shoulders into a shrug without looking away.

"You don't want a positive answer and you won't believe a negative one.  You've arrived here with accusations and your belief already formed," Loki responded, trying to figure out a way to remove his knife without Thor stopping him.

"I would rather believe you than not," Thor said. Their movements had ended with Loki almost backed into the wall across from the door.

"I have been working to try and save your hide these past days," Loki bit back a snarl.

"So did you try to have me killed and change your mind?" Thor asked. "Or are you truly innocent of that?"

The hand not wrapped around the knife came up to push against Thor's chest, "Let me go."

"Answer my question," Thor rumbled back.

He fell very still at that, "I did not expect Odin to accept my word."

Thor froze for a moment as well, before his thumb stroked Loki's cheekbone. "Why did you change your mind?"

Loki tried to lean away from the touch but found that all that did was trap his arm securely against the wall, "Because I realized I didn't want you dead."

"That's quite something to realize after you almost could not stop it anymore," Thor said, not saying that he was not sure it would not kill him yet.

"I'm not," Loki pushed harder against Thor's chest, desperately wanting space between them, "I'm not sure if I can stop it."

"Your plan had the major flaw that I'm still alive," Thor pointed out. "I intend to remain so."

"Good.  Now let go."

Thor frowned slightly, looking over Loki's face. "What?"

Loki pushed against Thor's chest again, "I said let me go."

"Why?" Thor asked, actually moving closer and wrapping his other arm around Loki to drag him closer into an embrace. "I have missed you."

Tensing at that, Loki released his hold on his knife in order to use both of his hands to push against Thor, his cheeks heating, "I've missed you too, now get off."

"It's a hug, Loki," Thor mumbled into the crook of his neck.

Loki's breathing hitched at the warm brush of Thor's breath on his skin, "No, I never would have guessed that was what this was.  How," he cleared his throat when that word came out at the wrong timbre, "how long do you intend to continue with the hug?"

"Until I am certain it expresses how long I missed you," Thor said. "I almost ran over in the rain a hundred times."

"At least then the second sentence out of your mouth probably wouldn't have been an accusation," Loki muttered, but finally dropped his hands, resigning himself to the embrace.

"It might have been," Thor mumbled. "Though Hogun telling me of Laufey made it so I could not ignore it." He huffed out a breath, stirring Loki's hair. "They were convinced you wanted me dead from the instant they saw me."

Loki closed his eyes, feeling a shiver go down his spine, "They always assume the worst to begin with when it comes to my actions."

"You give them no reason not to," Thor said and when his hand moved to touch between Loki's shoulder blades, almost like a caress, before he could think about it, he froze again.

Tensing under that touch, Loki tried to push Thor away, "Even if I did they would think it was for some harmful reason."

Thor frowned, still not releasing the other as he started paying more careful attention to his body. "They would usually not be wrong."

"But it rather defeats the purpose of giving them reason to trust me," Loki replied, his fingers curling against Thor's shirt-front.

Thor ran his hand along Loki's back, out of curiosity to see what would happen. "It feels like it has been many years since you allowed me to touch you."

Loki startled at the touch, arching away from it and freezing when he found himself pressed almost fully against Thor—the only exception being where his arms and hands kept their chests apart, "There are enough whispers without you touching me."

"What?" Thor asked, looking down at him and wanting only to pull his hips closer.

"Sif accuses me of loving you wrongly, and Fandral makes comments whenever he arrives about that damned vase," Loki answered, refusing to look up because he knew exactly how close it would put their faces.

Thor froze, staring down at Loki. "What did he say about the vase?"

Loki paused for a long moment, "That it's the same color as my eyes."

"It was," Thor said. "It reminded me of them so much—" he frowned, considering the glimpses he would catch of it filled with flowers that he had shrugged off as being aesthetically pleasing and nothing more. "Loki," he said slowly, voice a rumble in his chest.

Loki kept his gaze firmly fixed on Thor's collarbone, "Yes?"

Thor bumped his fingers under Loki's chin, tilting his head back with one arm firmly around his waist to keep him in place. "Do you love me wrongly?"

Paling at that, Loki tried to draw away again, "What sort of question is that?"

"One I would like an answer to," Thor rumbled, still holding him.

Loki nodded, barely more than a faint dip of his chin. Thor's pupils darkened like a switch had been flipped. "Loki," he rumbled but was unsure where to go beyond that, eyes flickering from Loki's down to his mouth and back up.

"And, and now you know," Loki murmured, eyes wide like a cornered animal.  "You know something I tried desperately to kill you for. That I've done everything I can to keep quiet."

Almost before he had finished speaking, Thor dragged him forward, hands cupping the back of his neck to slam their mouths together. Loki startled, yelping slightly against Thor's mouth before he processed the fact that Thor was kissing him and it wasn't some sort of dream.  None of his dreams that involved this had included him confessing to attempting murder.  He wrapped his arms around Thor's neck and pulled himself deeper into the kiss, pretty sure he was tasting blood from where his teeth had cut his lower lip.

Right hand staying tangled up in Loki's hair, the other dropped to his waist as Thor coaxed his mouth open, tasting the blood as his tongue swiped over it. Pressing further against Thor as he fought for dominance in the kiss, Loki moaned in the back of his throat.  It was intoxicating to have Thor so close and there willingly. "Next time," Thor growled, pulling back only a breath, punctuating his words with light touches. "Try to kill me for a different reason."

Loki's eyes fluttered closed at that, "Did you just give me permission to attempt your murder again?"

"No," Thor said, kissing his cheekbone and dragging his mouth toward his eye. "But if you feel the need it had better be for something different."

"It's so much easier to hate you," Loki murmured, his breath hitching.

"How?" Thor asked, shifting his arm down so both hands could hold Loki's hips.

Opening his eyes to meet Thor's, he shook his head ever so slightly, "It hurts less."

Drawing back enough to look at Loki's eyes, Thor frowned before he rested their foreheads together. "This hurts?"

"To want you desperately, no, forget that.  To _need_ you so much I cannot do without you?  Yes, it damn well hurts."  He tried to put his thoughts into words, "I want to hate you.  I tried to hate you.  And I _can't_.  I can't do anything but twist myself into knots and hope I don't get trapped in my own web when it comes to you, you absolute bastard."

There was a long moment when Thor did and said nothing, eyes dark as he looked at Loki. "Your mouth," he muttered. "Do you think I could do without you?"

"I think you would find yourself able to make do if you had to," Loki replied, trying to keep his thoughts clear even pressed flush against the other man.

Thor's jaw dropped and he just stared for a moment. "You honestly think that?" he managed. "You think I sleep at night when I think of you, or that I do not spend my life worrying for you?" He almost shook Loki. "You think so little of me as that? That while you would not survive I might?"

Loki shifted enough to press his hands to Thor's chest, trying to push away again, "I don't think little of you, that's part of the problem!" Instead of letting him get away, Thor kissed him again, teeth dragging along his lower lip. Moaning before he could catch the sound, Loki melted into the kiss.  He drew back after a moment, pupils blown wide as he tried to form a coherent sentence, "You can't do that every time you want me to stop talking."  He leaned in, scraping his teeth along Thor's throat, "After all, it's not viable in public."

Thor groaned, tilting his neck back. "No? I'll have to find something else then." He brushed his thumbs against the small of Loki's back. "I honestly do not know why you seem to think I would survive to lose you."

"Why wouldn't you?" Loki responded, laving his tongue over the place his teeth had been moments before, "You've more than enough support from others."

"Because you are everything, Loki," Thor said, looking down at him and complete seriousness in his eyes and voice.

He froze at that, pulling back enough to stare at Thor in shock, "You can't, you can't be serious."

"How can I not be?" Thor demanded. Loki paused, decided he had no answer to that question, and slammed their mouths together again. Thor took another step forward, shoving Loki up against the wall and running his hands along the back of Loki's thighs, urging them up.

Bracing his back firmly against the wall and using Thor's shoulders for support, Loki wrapped his legs around the other's waist, changing the angle of the kiss and drawing back enough to catch Thor's lip between his teeth. Thor made a strangled noise, pressing Loki's body back against the wall but breaking away from the kiss to nuzzle against his ear, biting the lobe. "I've always loved only you."

Loki tipped his head back at that, his eyes sliding closed again as he murmured, "Damn you and your brutal honesty."

Thor laughed, breath against his ear. "That hurts you too, doesn't it?"

"There is nothing about this that doesn't hurt in some way," Loki replied. "It was supposed to be simple and then you're golden, and beautiful, and honest, and perfect, and it's just not fair."

Thor bit his ear again. "I'm not perfect," he growled. "And this was never, simple, was it?"

"It should have been," Loki managed.  "We should have been brothers.  Grown up together, settled down with attractive women, and never gotten to this point."

Thor's growl was possessive. "Maybe it should have been but I would have always hated that woman."

"Do you think anyone you chose would have made it to your wedding night?" Loki replied, voice too even to be calm as his green eyes narrowed.

"See?" Thor said, freeing one hand to run across Loki's face and tuck a strand of his dark hair back. "We have never been simple."

Loki leaned into the touch, never taking his eyes away from Thor's, "And every day we become more complex, like some horrific Gordian knot."

Thor laughed and bent to kiss Loki again, touch gentler and more focused on exploring the contours of Loki's mouth than the mash of teeth and tongue earlier. Moaning into the kiss, Loki draped his arms around Thor's shoulders, one hand moving to tangle in the shortened blond locks.

"I want you, brother," Thor rumbled when he drew back for a breath.

Loki's eyes widened at that, and he leaned his head against Thor's shoulder as he tried to catch a reasonable breath, "Words I never thought to hear you say."

"Then you are a fool," Thor said but he was laughing. "God, Loki, does that mean I can have you?"

" _I'm_ the fool?  You're the one asking that question.  Yes, Thor, have me," the grin he offered Thor was sharp at the edges. Thor bit at the edge of his mouth before releasing Loki and stepping back, turning to move into the kitchen. Loki remained leaning against the wall for a long moment, simply watching Thor move through the apartment.  When he was less mentally fogged he would have to see about returning some of the gifts to their rightful places, "What are you doing?"

Returning a moment later, Thor scanned the apartment as he approached, looping his free arm around Loki and dragging him toward the bedroom. He had gathered oil from Loki's cupboards, a towel and pre-emptive glass of water as he did not much intend to let Loki leave the bedroom any time soon. "Is there a single thing I've given you still out?"

"What?  Um, no, no I believe I boxed it all up," Loki admitted, blinking in surprise at the arm around his waist.

Thor actually smiled, a brief twitch of his mouth. "So long as you did not throw them all out I suppose." He kicked the door to Loki's bedroom shut behind them.

Loki's hand curled around Thor's tie as he stepped in front of him and turned to face him, "I considered it with a couple of them, but they all survived."

Thor deposited what he had gathered on the bedside table, careful with the glass before he bent down, trapping Loki's hand between their chests as he kissed him again, heat curling in his stomach. Humming into the kiss, Loki slid his hand further up until it rested against the knot of the tie. "Did you know," Thor said, voice low between them. "Apparently a red tie is a marker that you desire men?"

"You wear those an awful lot," Loki replied, his lips curling into a smile.

"Yes," Thor agreed. "I did not know at the time that it signaled such a thing to certain circles but," he huffed out a breath against Loki's cheek, dragging him impossibly closer. "But I cannot say it is not true."

Loki leaned in, his breath ghosting over Thor's ear, "How long?"

Thor swallowed hard. "If I answer that, will you?"

"I'll try," he murmured, lips brushing the skin just behind Thor's jaw.

"I need a bit of a firmer promise than that," Thor scolded, fingers digging into Loki's hips.

Loki gasped slightly at that, pressing further against Thor, "You're asking me to pinpoint when?  All I can promise is to try.  You'll have an answer though."

Thor kissed Loki's temple, considering for a long moment. "When we were children," he said, tone quiet and gentler than the growl he had all but been talking in. "I always thought about you—were you eating enough, were you being ignored, were you trying to cut off Sif's hair in the middle of the night. And then we got older, and I started going out with Father and you were supposed to still stay at home, except you never wanted to, of course," Thor laughed. "You know all this, don't you? But there was one night when we were out during a thunderstorm and you insisted on coming and we got into a fight with Laufey's men and when we got home it was like a slap in the face, my worry and the way you were looking at me in angry defiance that you were fine even though I was yelling at you for being an idiot—and after that. Well, it got worse after that."

"I still stand by the fact that Sif deserved to have her hair cut off, I should have cut it shorter than I did even," Loki replied, speaking aimlessly rather than deal with exactly how early he remembered that being in their lives.  "We are a disaster, aren't we?"

"Yes," Thor agreed easily, not letting him go.

Realizing he wasn't going to manage to get out of it, Loki rested his forehead against Thor's shoulder so he wouldn't have to look at the other.  When he spoke his voice was slightly muffled, "I don't know when it started.  I really don't. You were always there and it didn't seem to matter what I did you wouldn't stop being there. I think I realized my jealousy had changed before I realized anything else.  Just watching you around Sif and the other three, but mostly Sif, suddenly it wasn't a matter of you spending more time with them than with me, it was that you were spending time with anyone else.  I wanted you all to myself—I still do." His fingers tightened where they were still resting against Thor's tie, "So, no, I can't point to an instance.  It was gradual, but watching you dance with her because she wanted to lead, I'm sure you remember when I mean, I wanted to gut her for it."

Thor blinked and laughed, the sound almost hysterical. "She didn't want to lead," he said. "I asked her to teach me how to follow so I could teach you how to dance but you refused. I thought your pride would never allow you to dance as a follow."

Loki fell very still at that, pulling back enough to slam the side of his fist into Thor's shoulder, "You're a bastard, you know that?"

"I wanted to teach you to dance," Thor said, grinning.

"And you couldn't just damn well say so, could you?"  He shook his head, "You are hopeless."

"I did," Thor protested. "I asked you if you wanted to learn and you just left." He caught Loki's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"I was not going to deal with being in that much proximity to you for that long then," Loki responded, swallowing hard.

"Because of this?" Thor asked and he leaned back, jerking Loki's tie undone and off in one long motion.

Breath hitching, Loki nodded as he fumbled with the knot of Thor's tie, the dexterity he usually prided himself on all but completely gone, "Yes, because of this."

Thor kissed his jaw, undoing his jacket and tossing it somewhere else before carefully unbuttoning Loki's shirt instead of ripping it off like he was tempted to. Finally managing to undo Thor's tie, Loki pressed up for another kiss, his fingers trailing downward as he undid the buttons of the other's jacket, vest, and shirt.

Thor threw Loki's vest off toward where he thought he had tossed the jacket, shirt following moments later and he stepped back to yank the undershirt over his head, interrupting Loki's attempts to systematically find and undo any button that he still had fastened. "It has been a very long time since I saw you without layers and layers of clothing on," Thor remarked, hands looping in Loki's belt and dragging him close again.

Loki's fingers stuttered on the button he had been undoing, "And you're still wearing too many of them."  He finally finished divesting Thor of the jacket and vest and frowned at the suspenders briefly before reaching up to slide them off his shoulders to remove the other's shirt.

Thor kissed the side of his neck, laughing at the look Loki had given his suspenders. "Just because you like the newfangled fashions."

Drawing back enough to pull Thor's undershirt over his head, Loki grimaced, "I prefer the belt."

"As you would," Thor agreed, biting at Loki's collarbone before leaning back to unbuckle the belt and pull it off in one motion, before pushing Loki toward the bed.

Going with the motion, Loki pulled Thor with him until the back of his legs hit the bed and he fell back on it. Thor wobbled back to remain standing, bending down to loosen his laces and kick his shoes off before yanking off Loki's. Loki propped himself up on his elbows to watch Thor, a smirk playing around his lips, "I still can't believe you cut your hair."

"It was a weakness," Thor said, socks following the shoes and he leaned forward again. "It was getting in the way."

"I understand all the logical reasons behind it," Loki assured him, brushing a hand over the shorn locks.  "It's just strange to see you without it.

Thor grinned, distracted from his task for a moment to lean down and kiss Loki again, slow and deep. "By god," he murmured, drawing back and hesitated with a hand on the waistband of Loki's pants. "I have wanted to see you like this for a long time."

Letting his gaze travel slowly over Thor's form as his lips curled upward again, Loki tilted his head to one side to expose an expanse of his throat, "I'm glad I'm not the only one who loves wrongly."

"Let me at least get you unclothed before you start tempting me again," Thor muttered, not actually much of a complaint as he undid Loki's pants and yanked down all the fabric he could find at once.

"I do hope you're planning to be as unclothed as I am in short order," Loki responded, sliding himself further up the bed.

There was a long moment when Thor didn't say anything or move and when he raised his eyes there was almost no iris left. "Why did you become so gorgeous?"

"Exquisite genetics, I'm sure," he paused briefly as he realized who exactly that would have entailed but brushed it aside. "It's not as though you're anything short of a Rodin sculpture yourself." Thor hummed, running his hands up and down Loki's sides, feeling the muscle and warmth, leaning down to kiss Loki's navel. Loki arched at that touch, tilting his head back, "You are still wearing far, far too many clothes."

"My pants are far too many clothes?" Thor laughed but remained focused on touching as much of Loki as he could, mouth following his hands.

"Bastard," Loki muttered, though there was no venom in his voice.

Thor hummed, crawling onto the bed to continue his path upward. Catching Thor's chin and dragging him further upward, Loki captured his lips again, biting at the lower one. "Impatient," Thor said, not doing much better himself.

"If you wanted a partner with patience you should have chosen someone else," Loki replied, his hand trailing down Thor's chest to the waistband of his pants.  "And you're still half dressed."

"Not nearly half," Thor laughed but he twisted his hips with Loki's help to get the pants down enough so he could kick them off. "Is that better?"

Letting his gaze travel over Thor's body again, drinking in every contour, Loki nodded very slightly, "Much."

Thor groaned, a punched out sound at Loki's regard. "Perhaps patience is a virtue best left ignored," he rumbled and tackled Loki back onto the bed, attacking Loki's mouth and jawline, running down his throat while he tangled their legs together.

Loki tilted his head back to expose his throat, the chuckle that rose in him cut off by a moan as Thor hit a particularly sensitive point at the back of his jaw, "God, Thor.  We've been unknowingly patient for years."

Swearing, Thor rolled their hips together as he fumbled a hand over for the oil he had brought, dipping his fingers into it before touching his hand to Loki's back. "Can I take you, brother?"

Mind blanking at the sensation, it took Loki a moment to organize his thoughts even enough to nod, "Yes."

Thor grinned, kissing Loki's temple before leaning down to distract him with a deeper kiss as he began preparing the other. Loki moaned against Thor's mouth, his fingers tightening on the other's biceps as he arched at the touch. Thor made a soft sound, working slowly though he felt like he was about to lose his mind at the effort that took. Loki drew back from the kiss just enough to catch a breath before returning to it, his awareness gradually narrowing to incorporate nothing but Thor and what he was doing to him.

Thor tried not to laugh at Loki's silence, finally having discovered something that would stop his harsh and bitter words. Instead, he swallowed the small sounds he hoped Loki did not quite realize he was making, whimpers and breathy moans as Thor worked his fingers deeper into his brother.

"You're gorgeous," he breathed into the kiss and a moaning chuckle escaped that he still had words when Loki didn't. Finally, he shoved Loki from his side onto his back and had to take a moment to center himself, to gain enough control to keep moving slowly and gently as he finally pushed into Loki.

He was fairly certain he almost lost his sanity at the sound Loki made. Nuzzling his nose into Loki's hair, Thor started moving with steady thrusts when he thought himself enough under control. But heat was spreading through his entire body and he muffled his cries by biting Loki's shoulder as his pace only steadily increased.

By the time he felt his brother completely lose control beneath him, long neck thrown back and dark hair everywhere, Thor was more than prepared to tumble over the edge with him, yelling against Loki's collarbone. Bracing himself with his elbows it took him several minutes to get the muscle coordination to collapse to the side instead of on top of Loki.

It took Loki far longer than he was willing to admit to find a coherent thought that he could then put to words.  He finally managed to turn onto his side to face Thor, arm curled under his head.  His tone, when he spoke was calm, though there was something lurking in his green eyes, "You've done this before."

"And you haven't," Thor said, shifting his head to look over at Loki.

"No.  I hadn't," he agreed, still watching Thor through half-lidded eyes.  "Who was it?"

"It doesn't matter," Thor said, rolling over to kiss Loki's temple. "It was only practice. I wanted to know I could do it correctly."

"You had sex with someone else as practice," his tone was flat and he arched one dark eyebrow at the other man. "You are impossible, do you know that?"

Thor grinned as he kissed him again. "Yes."

Loki rolled his eyes, but returned the kiss.  Drawing back he leaned his head against the pillows, "I suppose it's at least less incestuous than it could be."

Thor hummed, chasing Loki for another kiss, limbs feeling heavy before the words sank in. "What?" he frowned. "How?"

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Loki's lips curled upward into a sardonic smile, "I'm not actually Odin's son.  Nor Frigga's I suppose."

"What are you talking about?" Thor frowned, shifting forward and cupping one hand over Loki's cheek.

"Come now, is it really so much of a surprise?  I've never resembled anyone in the family.  Apparently I was a bid for peace on Odin's part."  He kept himself from leaning into the touch, "It's amazing the things I've discovered in the last few days."

"Then who are you parents?" Thor asked, still frowning.

"Laufey.  And Farbauti, I would assume as I've never heard of him having a child that wasn't hers," Loki replied, stretching languidly and trying to play off exactly what he thought of that information.

Thor pushed himself into a sitting position and before Loki could protest, he dragged all of Loki's long limbs into his lap, holding him there. "It doesn't matter."

Loki struggled at that, pushing against him, "What are you doing?  And what on earth do you mean it doesn't matter?"

"You're still my brother," Thor said, fingers tracing circles on Loki's hips, where he had probably already pressed bruises that were still forming. "Blood doesn't change that."

"You're insane.  Have I reminded you of that recently?" Loki asked, still half-trying to twist away from him.

Thor kissed him again, as much an affirmation as because he was still shocked he could. "Yes," he agreed softly, pulling back. "I have thought of you a thousand ways, and wanted you another thousand but we grew up together. I have always thought of you as my brother and that adoption changes nothing."

Loki frowned slightly at him, "I still don't understand you.  But for the moment I think I can live with that."

Smiling up at him, Thor lifted one hand to run it down Loki's spine. "Actually, it does change one thing. We are simply morally and legally wrong instead of incestuously legally and morally wrong."

"See, and this was my point," Loki nodded once, even as he arched at the touch on his spine.

"You're still mine," Thor rumbled and kissed Loki's chest, at the place right below where his collarbone met.

"Good.  If I wasn't we would be having a very different conversation," he murmured in response, combing his fingers through Thor's hair.

"I love you," Thor said, arms tightening around Loki's waist and he moved enough to kiss over Loki's heart. "As a brother, as this, as anything." Loki paused at that, tipping Thor's head up to kiss him instead of answering. Thor dragged his tongue along the roof of Loki's mouth. "Though, perhaps, do not try and kill me again."

"I thought I already agreed to not try that again," Loki responded.  "I went and begged for your life, if that's any help."

"It is a bit of one," Thor allowed, shifting to draw Loki closer, licking lazy kisses into his mouth. Loki pushed Thor back onto the bed, never breaking contact as he curled around him, returning the kisses languidly. Thor kept Loki on top of his chest, running a finger in circles around his tailbone. "Sometime," he said, conversationally. "I would like to see what you would look like riding me."

Lips curling upward into a smirk, Loki crossed his hands on Thor's chest and rested his chin on them, "Sometime, we shall have to do that then."

Thor swallowed thickly. "Sometime?"

"Sometime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the chapter that broke our rating. *sigh* We had a time where our muses didn't break our initial ratings so often, I'm sure we did.


	8. Coral Honeysuckle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Color of My Fate

Pepper rubbed her eyes and took a drink from the water glass by her right hand.  She turned another page of the ledger she had picked up while Tony had briefly stepped out of the office.  Hearing a step in the doorway, she glanced up and then back down at the book when she realized it was Tony, "These are some interesting figures."

"I thought—" Tony started and frowned. "Weren't those in the lock box?"

"They were, yes," she answered, scanning the next page of numbers.  "Since you never lock your papers up from me I thought it would be worth a look.  And from what I'm seeing here, you're going to need someone organizing this mess too."

Tony opened his mouth, on the verge of protesting when his shoulders deflated. "I kept the numbers in columns."

"And they're very nice columns.  But can you tell me what they mean?" Pepper asked, looking up at him.

"Not good things," Tony said after a beat. "I mean, really not good things."

She paused before nodding, "It looks like at least some of these funds are being laundered through the film studio.  And besides, it's not as though they should be clearly marked as what they are, it'll require some sort of shorthand code.  But this really needs a better touch."

"You know," Tony said, sliding into the seat across from her. "I'm generally considered good with numbers."

"You're good at calculations.  At formulas.  And this goes beyond numbers," Pepper said.  "This is just the numerical and monetary side of a much larger organization, based on these figures."

Tony sighed, sounding petulant. "I should be able to balance my own books."

"You're going to need help, not just with the books," Pepper shook her head.  "But the books are what I can understand."

"What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his chin to one side and watching her.

"I mean you are apparently the heir to something very big and very illegal and I don't like it," Pepper replied.  "And based on the way Obadiah's acting?  It's an old boy's club and I don't have the right parts to fit into that."

Tony's eyebrow twitched and he shrugged. "It's not," he started and shook his head. "Alright, that's probably true. Everything in this town is an old boy's club, except Odin's Asgard."

"So, since I can't get into there and you need someone watching your back somewhere, I'm offering to work with your books and everything I do for you legitimately but, well, less legitimately."

"Where did I find you, Miss Potts?" Tony asked after a beat. "I want to order a few more."

"I'm one of a kind.  They broke the mold after I was born," she replied with a smile.  "You know, if you asked, Rhodey would probably help too."

"No," Tony shook his head. "I didn't want to involve you in this why would I involve him?"'

"Because who else do you have?" Pepper asked, "And I don't ask that to be cruel, but really, Tony.  Who else do you have but us?"

"Bruce," he said, then added with less conviction. "Obadiah."

She paused for a long moment at that, "You trust Obadiah?" The question was honestly curious as she knew how long Tony had been away from Howard and by default Obadiah.

"He's the only family I have," Tony shot back. "He's always been there, alright?"

"Alright," Pepper allowed, nodding very slightly.  She kept her thoughts to herself about how she disliked the way he moved around Tony, and the way Tony looked when he was there.

"He was better than my father," Tony said, as if better meant good on any objective level. "So, think you can fix the books?"

"I think I can make headway in that direction."  She paused, "Do I have to work on them here or can I take them home if I find a way to lock them up there?  Because I think I will need all the time I can get to deal with these."

"Alright," Tony said and frowned. "If you insist on doing them. But I don't want you involved."

"I do insist on doing them," she answered, ignoring his second statement as unviable.

"Still not comfortable, Miss Potts," Tony said, watching her but tone teasing.

"Terribly sorry, Mr. Stark, but I'm here for your efficiency not your comfort," came her response, her lips curling upward ever so slightly.

"Well, in that case," he shook his head. "I can do nothing else, but allow you access to my books, can I?"

"You evidently can't keep me away from them," Pepper pointed out.  "So, now that I have access to those, shall we look at the legal things we were actually working on tonight?"

"Not going to let me get away with not working?" Tony asked, already sketching something out in the corner of official paperwork.

"All I need is a couple of signatures and then I think we can put off the rest," she answered, sliding the document he was sketching on away.

"No, that was important," Tony protested. "It could revolutionize the way we think and work."

Pepper pulled out a blank sheet of paper and passed it to him, "Then sketch it on a piece of paper that you don't have to give to someone else."

"Thank you," he said, redrawing the lines quickly with the fountain pen. "Just give me the papers to sign and I leave the rest to you."

Pepper slid the appropriate papers toward him as the door opened again, Bruce entering and freezing when he saw Pepper there.  "Oh, there's someone else.  I, I'll just come back later then, shall I?"

"No you can stay," Tony said, alternating between signing the papers and working on the design.

Pepper waved Bruce in to the spare chair, "Everything alright, Bruce?"

"Oh, yes, everything's fine.  I only encountered someone last night that I haven't seen in three years and never expected to see again.  Did I mention that it was at a speak patching someone up and I'm pretty sure he's with the treasury department now?"  He sank down into the chair, running a hand over his face, his voice coming as close to a hysterical pitch as Bruce ever got.

Tony actually looked up at that and over. "What? Slower, with more words."

Bruce offered him a long look, "You have no room to order that."

"Well, do you want me to respond or not?" Tony asked with a shrug.

"There was almost a raid at the speak I was patching someone up at last night.  The man who I think was actually doing the raiding is someone I patched up three years ago and then let sleep on my couch for three days.  I was not intending to encounter him and I was definitely not expecting him to probably be a federal agent.  And he's lost his accent," Bruce said, making sure each word was actually articulated.

"His accent?" Tony asked, mind sorting through the rest of the information.

"He had a French accent last time I saw him."

Pepper looked up from where she was double checking that she didn't have anything else for Tony to sign, "You remember that?"

"He slept on my couch for three days.  It was a long time to decipher that accent."

"He was probably swearing at you in French so I'm not sure it was the accent you were trying to decipher," Tony said and paused. "Wasn't that right after the war?"

"Yeah, right after the troops got back," Bruce nodded, rubbing his temple.

"So how on earth did you end up with a bleeding Frenchman on your couch?" Tony asked, still scribbling.

"He got himself beat up in an alley by my apartment.  It was closer than dragging him all the way to the hospital."

"You know Bruce, this is why people worry about you," Tony said, shaking his head in mock concern that had the edge of real worry about it. "Because taking people to the hospital and not your house is _always_ the better plan."

Bruce frowned, "Second time in as many nights as I've heard that.  He couldn't hardly stand and I didn't have a car to get him all those blocks."

"Second time?" Tony found himself asking

"He said something similar," Bruce answered before he thought about it, raking a hand over his hair.

"So even the random French guy knows it would have been better for you not to take him home?"

"Three. Years.  Ago.  I am fine.  I am here, and I am fine," Bruce said with slight exasperation.

Pepper shook her head slightly, sliding a final paper over for Tony to sign, "Fortunately."

Tony frowned at the paper, before signing it with an extra flourish. "That's it, right?" he asked, looking over at Pepper.

She nodded, gathering the papers up, "Yes, that's the last of them."

"Oh thank god," he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes and leaning back.

"I'll be heading home then, Mr. Stark, unless there's anything else?" Pepper rose to her feet, the papers disappearing into the case she carried.

"Honestly," Tony said, tilting his head back. "Mr. Stark? Still?"

Her lips twitched upward at that, "No, not still.  Do you need anything else, Tony?"

"Well as the pleasure of your company seems out," Tony said, shuffling papers together. "Thank you, Miss Potts."

"Goodnight, Tony." She glanced at Bruce, "Bruce."

"Pepper," he nodded to her as she left.

"So," Tony said after the door closed. "Drinks? More drinks? I feel like drinks."

Bruce nodded, "I think drinks are an excellent idea right now."

"Just don't have too much," Tony said, already pouring glasses.

"I try to avoid repeat performances, and you were around the last time I got actually drunk," Bruce replied, accepting the glass.

"I remember," Tony said, shaking his head slightly. "No repeat performances, huh? I wonder what it must be like not to make the same mistake over and over."

Bruce turned the glass around in his hands, watching Tony, "You aren't as bad as that about it."

"I like not to have illusions about myself," Tony said, lifting up the glass in a mock salute.

Offering Tony a long look, Bruce raised his glass in response and took a drink, "Honesty with yourself is good.  But sometimes I think you slant those illusions about yourself too far negative."

"Don't say that," Tony warned. "I'm quite certain I could make myself even more self-negative if I tried."

Bruce sighed, shaking his head and taking another swallow of his drink, "Please don't.  You're hard enough on yourself as it is."

Laughing, Tony shook his head. "Alright, just for you."

o-o-o

Jane looked toward the kitchen clock as she slid the last of the breakfast she'd made onto a plate and pushed it toward Darcy, "Thor didn't come in last night.  Unless I didn't hear him?"

Eric took a long drink of his coffee and looked at her over the edge of his cup, "He can take care of himself.  It may have gotten late enough he didn't want to wake anyone by coming here."

"I didn't hear him either," Darcy said, happily munching through the eggs on the plate, shoving some of it to the side of her mouth as she kept talking. "Look, we might not need to worry," she swallowed. "But I think we still ought to at least a little. He usually likes breakfast anyway."

Jane dished up her breakfast and left a covered plate on the counter to keep it warm, before joining them, "Maybe, maybe he found a room with his boss?"

"With Stark?"  Eric's eyebrows rose and he shook his head, "Somehow I doubt that."

"I'm sure he has rooms," Darcy said. "Not sure Thor would take them though." She paused to consider that.

"Where would he spend the night otherwise?" Jane asked before pausing as well and thinking about the red tie in the clothing Thor had gotten when he had first arrived on their doorstep.

Darcy was obviously thinking along the same lines. "Well," she said, imagining the way Stark stood with Thor behind his shoulder, looking over it occasionally to speak to him. "I mean it could be... worse I guess."

Just then the door slammed open and shut much more gently, Thor stepping into the kitchen with a bounce in his step and stopping when he realized they were all already awake and alert. He checked his watch quickly before looking back up with a smile. Jane looked him over, returning the smile, "Morning.  There's breakfast on the counter."

"Good to see you here in one piece," Eric offered.

"Thank you," he said quite seriously, not mentioning he had already eaten. He couldn't even make himself regret losing track so horribly of time when he pinned Loki against the counter and kissed the protests out of him. Sitting, he happily ate the second meal, trying not to hum or grin like an idiot.

"Have a good night then?" Eric asked, coffee cup held in both hands.

"Yes," Thor said after a beat, wishing he could at least hide some of his reaction but he felt like his skin was buzzing with pleasure and happiness.

Jane smiled at that, "Good."  She paused, "Are you available to help in the kitchen at all today?"

"Of course," he said, nodding.

"So, who's the lucky girl then?" Darcy asked and Thor choked on his next bite.

Eric's brows rose, "Darcy..."  Jane glanced at Thor, pushing a glass of water toward him. Darcy shrugged, looking unconcerned as Thor nodded at Jane, sipping the water and trying not to laugh at how he imagined Loki might react to this conversation.

"Not that Darcy knows what tact is, but it's pretty obvious you had a _very_ good night," Jane said, finishing off her breakfast, pushing back from the table and taking the empty dishes to the sink to wash.

"That could be relative," Thor said after a beat.

"That's _relative_?" Darcy managed. "What would you look like after a really good night then?"

Jane turned from the sink, stepping aside as Eric moved over to finish rinsing the dishes, "I'm with Darcy in that curiosity."

"Oh," he coughed again and then shrugged.

Eric shook his head and glanced at Thor, "You'd probably better go upstairs and change into a fresh suit."

"Yes, I think that's a good plan," he agreed, rising quickly as a rapid knock came at the door.

Jane crossed to the door, pausing for a moment before opening it as Eric drained the sink and dried his hands on a dishtowel.

"Hi," Tony said brightly, despite his threatening headache and brushed inside. "Thor around?"

Jane blinked rapidly at him, "What, um, yes.  Yes he's, he's here."

"Great," Tony said and Darcy sighed, still at the kitchen table as Thor stopped and came back down the stairs.

"Anthony," he greeted brightly. "What can I do for you this morning?"

Tony blinked, tugging his sunglasses off. "Whoever did you sleep with last night?" he asked and Thor only blinked at him.

Eric snorted, looking toward Jane, "At least he wasn't eating for that question this time."

"I," he started. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Uh-huh," Tony said, brushing hair back from his face.

Jane glanced at the clock, "Can we get you anything?  We weren't really expecting anyone else this morning."

"It's fine," Tony said, flapping a hand. Thor frowned, remembering Tony's eating habits. "I just came along to find Thor." And avoid everyone else.

Watching him, Thor seemed to realize there was nothing pressing and smiled. "Well," he said, slowly. "I agreed to help them with the soup kitchen today. Would you like to join us?"

"I," Tony blinked at him now. "What?"

Smiling brightly at that, Jane's attention turned to Tony almost completely, "We can always use another pair of hands."

"Hands?" Tony asked. "Hands how?"

"Helping ones," she replied easily.  "We get a lot of people through here, and another person helping with handing out food is a great help."

"And why would I—?" Tony started to ask as Thor patted him on the shoulder.

"Think of the publicity," he said, before heading up the stairs to actually change this time, leaving Tony standing awkwardly below.

Eric shook his head, stepping out to head to the soup kitchen to make sure everything was set, "It certainly would make for good reputation."

"I," Tony slide the shades back on. "And who are all you people?" He couldn't remember if they had ever been formally introduced. Behind the glasses he closed his eyes when he realized how brusque he sounded, and now truly hoped they had never been formally introduced.

"I'm Jane, this is Darcy, Eric just left," she answered.  "We run a soup kitchen and took Thor in when we found him covered in blood in the alley out back."

"Right," Tony nodded. "Er. Nice to meet you."

"It's okay," Darcy said, trying not to grin too broadly. "We already know who you are."

"We can get you set up in the soup kitchen, if you're set?  Thor should be down any minute," Jane offered, looking toward the stairs before motioning to the door.

Tony trailed after her. "And what exactly am I supposed to be do-gooding here?"

"You're serving food."  She glanced over his suit, "Probably by handing out the rolls that go with the soup."

He blinked at that, adjusting the shades. "Alright."

Jane's lips curved into another smile as she led him into the soup kitchen and then to the right place for that, "Thor's on for actual soup serving so you'll be next to him, the rest of us will give you breaks, serve the coffee, and make sure we're not running low on anything."

"So why are Thor and I doing the actual work?" Tony asked as Darcy shoved him into the space behind the counter. "Hey!"

"Because Thor is very obliging about it, you're using the excuse of good press, and we happen to know where everything is on the back side and what goes in to making sure we've got enough supplies," Jane replied, easily as Eric emerged with the coffee pots.

"Oh," Tony frowned. "The whole press thing only works if people with cameras show up."

Jane shrugged blithely, "Well, best hope they show up, and if not, you have a precedent set and can set it up in the future and we can say in all honesty that you've volunteered to aid the less fortunate before.  We can always send a letter to the editor about it, too.  Less noticeable than pictures, but still in the paper."

"You have thought about this a scary amount considering the amount of time I've been here," Tony said.

Eric laughed, "She's good at that, as soon as she sees a person even remotely willing to help."

"Not quite sure," Tony started and Thor reappeared, smoothing down a red tie and Tony clicked his mouth shut.

"You will enjoy it," Thor informed him happily, putting on an apron.

"Red tie today?" Jane asked Thor, sounding almost casual about it as she headed toward the door to open up the kitchen.

"I like the color," Thor said cheerfully.

"Right," she nodded, glancing toward Darcy as she opened the door. 

It was a little over an hour later that a tall, broad-shouldered blond stepped into the space, Jane lighting up when she saw him and whacking Darcy on the arm on her way past to greet him, "Hello, stranger.  You don't darken our door much anymore."

Steve offered her a sheepish smile, "I keep getting caught up with things. You know how it is."

Thor looked up in some surprise to see Steve standing there, but Tony was arguing with a homeless man, who kept trying to shove his plate into Tony's hand. "No, no," he protested. "Don't hand it to me! Don't try— Look, hold it there and I'll put the stupid thing on— Are you listening to me?"

Steve looked in that direction and blinked twice, "Tony Stark's volunteering here now?"

Jane's lips curved into a smile, "He showed up this morning, mostly accidentally and who was I to say no to help."

"Meaning you press-ganged him into it," the police officer shook his head with a fond smile.  "It's my day off and I thought I'd see if you all needed help, but it looks like you've got more than enough."

"Because we ever turn away a willing volunteer who hasn't come near this place in months," Jane replied, arching an eyebrow at him.

"Stop trying to hand me the plate!" Tony said, finally shoving a roll on the plate and the plate back toward the other man's chest. He looked up and froze to see the broad-shouldered figure near the doorway.

Steve shook his head at Jane, laughing, his grin bright and his expression animated, "Alright, alright, you've made your point.  I'll come around more on my days off.  What do you need me to do today?"

"Not sure yet.  Oh, but Darcy and I have questions for you a little later."

He glanced toward Tony and Thor again and paused, gaze darting quickly away from Tony and his brows rose, "Is Odinson wearing a red tie?"

"He says he likes the color."

"And you explained—"

Jane nodded, "Darcy and I both did.  Not where we learned that information of course, but the implications."

"He was adamant he liked the color," Darcy said, appearing at his elbow.

Steve startled at that, looking at her, "You know, for how much you talk and how loud you can be you sneak up on a person better than just about anyone I know."  He shook his head, "So Odinson knows what the color means, which I have to ask when you told him? But still wears the red tie?"

"Yeah well, who's gonna try to beat him up for it?" Darcy asked. "I mean, honestly."

That earned a faint snort from Steve, "Alright, good point.  Jane says you gals have questions for me?"

"I said we have them later," Jane corrected.

"Seems pretty calm here now, relatively speaking," he replied.

Jane grinned up at him, "Sounds to me like you're trying to get out of relieving Eric at the coffee there next to Thor."

"Or Stark," Darcy added but happily shoved Steve toward the sitting room.

Steve felt his cheeks color at that, stammering out an attempt at a denial as he allowed himself to be pushed along and Jane's eyebrows rose at that.  "Careful, Steve, you'll hurt yourself if you try lying again."

"Wait, seriously?" Darcy managed. "You've run into Stark enough to stammer like an idiot?"

"Just, just a few times," Steve replied as the door to the sitting room closed behind them.

"Oh, Steve," Jane sighed, shaking her head.

"Well, he, it's nothing.  Doesn't matter," he answered, looking around the room and deciding he was feeling just a little too jittery to sit—seeing Tony at the soup kitchen had thrown him entirely off-balance though he was doing a better job of concealing that than he had expected.

"Yeah, a few times?" Darcy asked. "Didn't think he'd been in town all that long."

"He hasn't.  I, I ran into him outside his office a couple days before his father's funeral, or rather he ran into me.  And then there was the fight," Steve grimaced at his memories from that night.

"A fight? Did he punch you?" Darcy asked, eyes widening and trying not to grin.

"Not that sort of fight, Darce," Steve answered.  "An underground boxing match.  The gangs use them as gathering places."

That just seemed to make Darcy's eyes light up more. "Oooh, and what was shining stalwart you doing there then?"

"The higher ups thought it would be a good idea to send a couple of us in and see if we heard anything useful," Steve answered.  "Now.  You had some questions before you found out about all of this?"

"But this is so interesting," Darcy managed.

"I mean really, Steve, we haven't actually seen you blush and stammer over someone in a long time," Jane supplied.

He offered them both a fondly exasperated look, "Alright, question in return then.  You called Odinson Thor, and you've told him about red ties.  How do you know him?"

"Well," Darcy ran a hand over her short hair that was still curly as she hadn't bothered trying to tame the waves out of it. "He's sortta living here."

Steve stared at her for a long moment, "Thor Odinson is _living here_?  Do you know who he _is_?"

"Sortta," Darcy said. "Interesting question actually..."

Steve looked at Jane to see if she could shed further light on what they knew.  She offered him a sheepish look, "He works for Tony and that's because there was an intervention to keep him breathing?"

Running a hand over his face, he sighed and finally settled down in a chair, "Okay, I'm going to assume your questions have to do with him?"

"Yeah," Darcy said. "It's not too hard to pick up which side of the law he's on, and frankly Stark alongside him but," she shrugged, the question a delicate one she felt unsure of phrasing.

Steve sighed again, "But you want to know how much?  Or is there something more specific?"

"Just how much, Steve," Jane said.

He nodded, fingers tapping against his leg, "I'm not actually sure how much I'm supposed to tell you, so this stays between us and Eric, alright?  He is, or rather was, heir to Odin's gang.  We don't ever have enough to actually bring down any of the big players.  Something happened, he was cast out.  We think it had to do with a group from another gang.  Next thing we know he's working for Stark.  So he went from heir to a mob to bodyguard for a nominal mob leader.  So how much?  A hell of a lot."

Darcy whistled. "Well, that explains a lot," she said after a beat.

"You both and Eric are being careful, aren't you?"  Steve asked, looking from one to the other.

Jane nodded, "As we can be.  I mean, we took Thor in, but he's not caused us trouble and he needed a place to stay.  It's just the spare room."

"He's charming and he helps out," Darcy said. "He doesn't really act anything like a gangster, either, until something happens."

"I'm not sure how reassuring that is," Steve said, honestly.  "Charming, I've noticed.  Honorable even from what I've seen and heard, but he's still a gangster, and protection from Stark or not, he's got threats from another gang placed against him to the best of my knowledge."

"You're worrying too much," Jane said.  "We're careful, he's careful.  It'll be alright."

"We are careful you know," Darcy said. "Gangsters in our spare room or not."

He offered them a bit of a smile again, "I know you are.  But I worry, you know that.  If you ever need help you get a message to me if you can, alright?"

"Yeah, though it would sure help if you actually came around," Darcy said.

It was his turn to look sheepish, "I promise I'll do my best to be here on days off, okay?"

"More often than once every several months?" Jane confirmed, earning a nod.

"Or months on end," Darcy said. "It's been over five."

"I'll make sure it's more often than that, I promise.  As often as I can make the time," Steve said, pushing himself to his feet again.

"Yeah?" Darcy grinned. "Hey, if we can get Stark to come back, will that help?"

Steve knew he was blushing at that, "I don't think that would help much, no.  I'm a cop, for god's sake, Darcy."

"Yeah? Does that change anything, fundamentally?"

"You mean my preferences?"  Steve asked, eying her sidelong, "Not at all.  But it does make anything with a newly christened leader of a mob kinda difficult."

"You sure he is?" Darcy asked after a beat.

"Pretty damn," Steve nodded.  "Though," he paused, "he's not really in control of it.  There's another man who's doing that, but he's setting Tony up in a way to make him the face of the gang."

Jane watched Steve carefully, "You don't sound like you like him much."

"Only met him once, sort of.  He makes my skin crawl."

"So why make him," Darcy said, standing in the door and pointing to Tony, who seemed to have given up and started tossing rolls at people, Thor still smiling warmly at everyone who passed him and giving them a shade too much soup, "the face of it?"

Steve shifted to look over her shoulder toward Tony and sighed, "Because his father had the business before him.  Because Tony's inexperienced in this area.  Because if Stane needs someone to fall for something, why not let it be the new leader who they can afford to lose and leave him a clear path to power on both illegal and legal sides.  He was Howard Stark's business partner, but Tony's Stark's heir in all things."

Darcy blinked and looked back up at him. "That's a lot of offense on a gangster's behalf."

"And you've called him 'Tony' repeatedly," Jane said.  "Thor you call 'Odinson' and Tony you called 'Stark', but..."

Steve shook his head, "You're reading too much into it.  I just don't like Stane.  He's, he's the sort that breaks people who were whole and shatters those who were broken."

"Serious offense," Darcy said, tone teasing. "Look, I know that type gets under your skin but you have been calling him Tony."

"It's, that doesn't mean anything," Steve protested.

"Steve, unless you're friends with a person _you_ don't go that informal.  And you said you've only seen him twice.  Which means something's going on," Jane sighed.

"We can tell," Darcy added. "Sort of the problem with having friends, you know."

He sighed, "I think I prefer the ability to be in denial.  Can I go back to that?"

"No," Darcy said, brightly. "It's our revenge for you ignoring us for so long."

Steve offered her a ghost of a smile, "Well, in that case, can I go relieve Eric of coffee duty?"

"If you must," Darcy said, still teasing but looking worried.

Steve rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, briefly, "I promise I'll be careful too, Darce."

"Yeah but that's pretty hard to buy from a cop. You've already made stupid life choices."

"I've been doing that for years, and I still don't even come close to touching my partner's choices," Steve murmured.

"It's more the making it your job to be shot at thing," Darcy said, completely serious.

Steve paused at that, turning his full attention on her, "I know it's not much consolation, but I do my best to avoid that."

"We wouldn't know if anything happened to you, not for a while," Jane murmured.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Steve paused, "Not, not quite true."

"Oh?" Darcy asked.

"I put Eric down as someone to contact should, should anything happen.  Passed him off as an uncle."

Jane pursed her lips, "Next of kin.  Not what we meant, but it's something."

Darcy stared at him before hitting his arm. "Bastard! What did you do that for?"

Steve flinched slightly at that, "Someone needed to be listed, and hell you guys worry enough to be family.  It's not like I've really got family to put down there."

"Yeah but," she started, and stopped, Tony having looked over at her outburst. "Who'd you have before then? Bucky?"

Steve offered her a smile that didn't reach his blue eyes, "Yeah.  And before that I would've had mom.  I'd've put one or both of you down, but I wasn't sure."

Darcy still scowled. "If I got that phone call, I'd figure out necromancy to bring you back to throttle you, Steve Rogers."

"I don't doubt you would, Darcy.  I don't doubt you would," Steve laughed.

"Which means we sure as hell better not get that call," Jane said, seriously.

Across the room, Tony was still staring at them in the doorway until Thor gave him a good natured nudge and he handed the roll in his hand over automatically. No one had tried to hand him a plate in a while and his heartbeat was returning almost to normal.

Steve looked from Jane to Darcy and back before nodding in agreement to Jane and pulling Darcy close enough to kiss her forehead, "I promise I'll be careful, and I will come by often enough that you'll be able to see if I'm not."

"Too right you will," she said, offering Steve a smile and trying not to laugh at the way Tony scowled and looked away quickly. "Now go serve coffee and flirt."

That earned a laugh and he left the sitting room, ducking behind the counter and letting Eric know he'd take over.  He found himself brushing shoulders with Thor, the other blond man between him and Tony which Steve tried not to be grateful for.

"It is good to see you again," Thor said seriously, Tony scowling at the next costumer who came up to the line.

"And you," Steve said.  "Bit of a surprise to see you _here_ , but the girls seem to think you're alright."

"They are very kind," Thor said.

"They like you a lot.  I hope you're not going to bring any trouble to their door.  Or more than average," Steve said, his attention mostly on pouring coffee for the people coming past.

"I would never," Thor said and paused. "On purpose. They have been too kind for me to do that."

"I of course, don't get the same consideration," Tony huffed.

"You, are different," Thor said, shrugging when Tony tilted his head back to stare at him.

"Didn't you take him on as your guard?" Steve asked, glancing past Thor to Tony.

"Guard?" Tony asked, trying to pass it off. "What do you mean?"

Steve offered him a long look, but shook his head, "Nothing, of course."

"Of course," Tony repeated, pushing his shades further up his nose.

Steve turned his attention back to Thor, "Do you help with the soup kitchen much?"

"I have been," Thor said, still bright.

That earned a smile from Steve, "Well, thanks for that.  I haven't been around anywhere near like I should be, and I know Jane always likes the help."

"Do I get thanks for showing up?" Tony asked, leaning around Thor slightly.

Steve's smile turned to a grin at that, "You were throwing rolls at people."

"They tried to hand me things," Tony said stiffly, turning away.

Eyebrows rising, Steve blinked at that, "Ah, well that explains it, doesn't it?  You likely to come back again?"

"Haven't decided yet," Tony said, ignoring the first question.

"I know Darcy and Jane'd appreciate it.  I haven't been around as much as I used to," Steve said.

"Did you used to come here often?" Thor asked when the line of Tony's mouth thinned.

"Pretty often," Steve nodded.  "Used to be the three of them and me half the time.  Then I landed my current job and, well, haven't been back in a few months."

"Why'd you stop?" Tony asked. "Job shouldn't be enough to keep you from something you want to do."

"Things happened.  Didn't want to deal with the area down here as much for a while.  Easier to avoid it," Steve replied, managing a smile for the person he was handing coffee to.

"Things?" Tony asked and Thor eyed him sideways.

"Life things," Steve said.

Almost opening his mouth, Tony shrugged. "Life things. Fine."

"Going to be trying to get in here more often again," Steve said.  "I've got days off, I may as well use them."

"I'm certain they will all appreciate it," Thor said, though there was a tiny frown now at the thought of a police officer around all the time. Tony graciously handed a roll to the next person in line.

Steve caught Thor's expression, but ignored it, "I think Darcy will hunt me down if I don't use those days to come by again."

"You damn well know it," Darcy said, breezing past Steve to refill the coffee pot, Thor trying not to choke on his laugh.

Steve offered her a grin, "Not sure how many promises I can offer you about that, Darce."

"You have days off, you come," she said before moving away again, walking among the tables.

He watched her go, shaking his head fondly, "And so I'll be around more again."

"I've been trying to convince Tony about coming back," Thor said, noticing the way Tony tensed beside him. "It would be good for him, not to mention the publicity."

Steve glanced toward Tony, "It wouldn't be bad for the public image.  It'd be good for the kitchen too, to have some help."

"They sound like they'll be getting quite a bit of it," Tony said, still stiff.

"They'll be getting more.  But more of something that wasn't really there isn't much," Steve said, before deciding it was better not to press further.

Tony scowled at him, leaning around Thor's chest so Steve would be sure to see it except a young woman had stopped in front of him. "You're Tony Stark, aren't you?"

His attention whipped back away toward her. "Oh. Yeah."

She blushed, pretty though her hair was a mess under her hat and she clearly had seen better days. "I see your picture in the paper sometimes. It's so good of you to come help." Tony carefully set a roll on her plate, ignoring the way Thor was grinning at him.

"Glad to help," he said.

Steve hid his smile as best he could at that exchange, catching Jane's eye from a few feet away, where she was talking to someone who had just left the line.  Once the woman had moved on, Steve glanced toward Tony again, trying to ascertain whether to say anything or not.

"See?" Thor said and Tony shook his head slightly.

"Are you honestly trying to guilt me into this?" he asked but didn't sound as put out as he was trying to look.

"I think he's trying to appeal to your better nature," Steve offered.

"Rogers," Tony said, shaking his head. "I don't have one."

"That I find hard to believe.  You're here, and actually helping, for one."

Tony's expression was mutinous, even with the sunglasses. "Publicity stunts have nothing to do with good nature," he said. "It's all carefully calculated."

"Because the press is likely to show up today, I'm sure," Steve said.

"There don't have to be pictures, I have witnesses now."

"You really don't think there's good in you," Steve said, staring at Tony around Thor for a moment before shaking his head and going back to the coffee.

Thor looked at where there was a lull in the line and retreated, saying something about getting a clean ladle after dropping the one he had on purpose. "That's surprising to you, isn't it?" Tony snapped, startling to realize Thor wasn't between them anymore when he finally looked over.

"I don't know, yeah kinda," Steve said, trying to figure out if he wanted to thank Thor or remind him that someone else could have gotten a clean ladle.  He was coming down on the second option rapidly.

"Aren't you supposed to be a cop?" Tony asked, turning to look at him. "How does that work with believing people all have good in them anyway?"

"I don't believe everyone has good in them, that's how it works," Steve said, turning and letting his hip rest against the serving counter.

Tony stopped while they both looked at each other. "Then why make that assumption about _me_? Haven't you paid attention?"

"Yeah, and I've seen a lot less to prove to me that you don't have good in you than I've seen in other people in this city."

"Yeah? And that makes you think good still exists way down there? You don't know me, you can't just go around saying things like that."

"I don't know if there is good in you, but I've got a hard time believing there isn't," Steve said, shaking his head.  "I can't explain why that is."

"If you're going to go around accusing people of goodness, you might want to articulate it," Tony said, flicking a hand over his shoulder as he turned away, only to find no one waiting, making the gesture look ridiculous.

"This all started because I said better nature, not goodness.  There's sort of a difference," Steve said, shrugging off the dismissive gesture and letting his gaze sweep around the soup kitchen.

"Yeah?" Tony asked, resting his palms on the counter and letting them take his weight.

Steve hummed his assent, "You're right.  I don't know you and can't make calls about your goodness or not.  My gut feeling is that you're not as lacking as you think you are, but this is what the third time I've seen you?"

Running a hand through his hair, Tony shrugged. "Sure but the second time you told me you'd teach me, what, self-defense?"

He paused at that, tapping his fingers against the counter before he nodded, "Yeah, I offered something like that."

"I hope your weirdness doesn't catch," Tony said, not looking back at him.

"Depends on who you ask," Steve said with a hint of a smile.

"Who should I ask?"

"Well Bu—" He broke off and shook his head, "Darcy would say it's catching, Jane would say you can't catch things like that.  They're the only ones I think you'd cross paths with."

Tony looked back at him, obviously considering asking who Steve started to mention but dropped it. "This is Hollywood, you know. I firmly believe that crazy catches."

"I like to think I've got my own brand of crazy that's slightly less contagious," Steve answered with a grin.

Staring at him, Tony pushed the glasses up higher on his nose, glad when someone cleared their throat and for a second he could focus on handing them a roll without his hands shaking. Steve took care of the soup and coffee for them as Thor still hadn't returned and then glanced at Tony again, "Do you always wear those sunglasses?"

"As much as I can," Tony said, not looking over again in case Steve was still grinning.

"Why?"

Tony looked at him before he could think better of it. "Because it's easier."

Steve blinked at him for a long moment, "Easier?  How is that, I mean..."

"For me," Tony said. "It makes things easier for me."

Pausing, Steve considered that before nodding, "I guess, I guess I could see that."

"Really?" Tony said, not believing him.

"Anything I say here is going to be speculation and assumption about you again," Steve said, shaking his head.  "Not sure I want to do that."

"Oh no," Tony drawled. "Now I want to hear this."

"You're coming back to town, practically a new arrival in a lot of ways.  Of course it's easier to have something to hide behind."

"Wore shades on the other coast too," Tony dismissed because that had hit too close to be comfortable.

Steve twitched his head in what might have been an acknowledging nod, "See, and this is something I didn't know."

"So," Tony said, not looking at him. "Do you try and analyze people's dreams too?"

Steve snorted, "Hell no."

That got a small smile from Tony and he dared to look over again, barely even noticing Thor had never actually returned. "Really? But I had such an interesting one," he teased.

That earned a lopsided grin, "Well, I can give it a shot, but I've always been awful at it."

Tony considered making up a dream just to make the other awkwardly grin at him again but shrugged it off. "Naw, it's fine."

"So have you decided if we'll see you down here again?" Steve asked, the corners of his lips still kicked up.

"Not yet," he said, voice accidentally dropped low.

Steve swallowed at that, turning his attention to checking the coffeepot levels as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. Standing next to Jane, Thor considered the pair of them before shaking his head slightly and remaining where he was.

Tony tapped his fingers on the counter for a moment, not watching Steve and missing the blush. "Would you want me to?"

"It'd be appreciated if you did," Steve said, trying not to directly answer the question.

"Yeah? By who?" Tony asked, pressing instead of running.

Startled blue eyes darted toward Tony before Steve recovered himself enough to shrug, "The gals.  Eric.  And, well, alright, I'd appreciate it."

Tony grinned at him before he could stop it. "How nice of you."

Steve blinked at him before returning the grin, "Well, it's not like I'm likely going to see you for those self-defense lessons otherwise."

Tony choked on air. "So you're still calling those a go?

Steve shrugged, "If you're up for them."

"What do you think I do that I need them, anyway?" Tony asked, mouth twisted.

"I don't know.  It's useful to know some whether you have reason to use it or not."

"I suppose," Tony said as Thor finally reappeared, as there was a new cluster of people at the door. Steve managed another faint smile before returning to serving the coffee, letting Thor step between them again.

"I need to go," Tony said finally, after there was another lull and he didn't look at Steve.

"Should I come with you?" Thor asked automatically and Tony shook his head.

"Naw, have the day off. Nothing's really going on."

Thor arched his brows, considering Tony. "How did you get here by yourself anyway?"

Jane slid up to Steve, refilling the coffee pot as she did so, speaking under her breath, "For an upstanding citizen and a cop you're not the most subtle."

"Jane...."

"I'm just saying, Steve.  Careful means careful, not flirting."

Tony was already by the door, Thor having followed him as they had a quiet but hurried conversation about the fact Tony was supposed to actually keep himself safe and not be an idiot. Mostly Thor was talking. Every once in a while, Tony threw up his hands or glanced back over at Steve.

Steve watched them go, even as he protested Jane's accusations in an undertone.  She frowned in response, "I would believe that if you weren't grinning, blushing, or watching him all morning."

"It's really tragic," Darcy said, appearing on his other side where Tony had abandoned the rolls.

"You're both—"

"If you say we're seeing things that aren't there, Steve Rogers, I will pour this coffee on you burns or no burns and make a new pot," Jane threatened.

He offered her a slightly hurt look at that, "I was going to say that you both are making this bigger than it actually is."

"So I admit I don't know Stark all that well," Darcy said. "But sortta can claim I know you pretty well."

"The next thing you're going to say has something to do with how far gone I am, isn't it?" Steve asked, glancing at her.

"From all indications, you both are," Darcy muttered, shaking her head.

"Okay, now I know you're making things up," he said, frowning at her.

Jane sighed, "You're going to need to start paying attention to your surroundings better if you're actually going to be careful.  How did you even end up on the force with these sorts of observational skills?"

Darcy just shook her head. "You were actually watching him, right? I'm just checking here."

"Of course I was watching him," Steve said.

"No, you were looking at him, I'm not sure you were actually watching him if you can say that," Jane pointed out.

"You know, I'm happy in my denial."

"Egypt's big again this year," Darcy said at a sing song, making the man she was handing a plate back to give her an odd look.

Steve shook his head, handing the man a cup of coffee, "You're unnerving the normal people."

"What, have you seen the dresses coming out?" Darcy asked, a hint of longing in her voice but she quickly shrugged it off. "Or that new building going up? It looks like a freaking pyramid! Though you're not much into fashions, are you?"

"I admit I am not very fashion conscious," Steve agreed.  "I leave that to you."

"Well at least you have some sense," Darcy said, looking amused and concerned. "Honestly, Steve. You weren't really watching him."

He sighed, "He's not my—"

"Dark haired, dark eyed, shorter than you are, abrasive and outwardly cocksure?"  Jane offered Steve a long look, "No, not someone you would ever be attracted to."

"That was low, Jane," Darcy said before Steve could. "But her point stands," she added. "Type's got nothing to do with this anyway."

Steve was ignoring Darcy for the moment for the sake of staring at Jane for a long time, "No.  No, type has nothing to do with it at all.  We're almost out of rolls, I'll be back in a minute."  Before either of them could say anything he slipped into the attached kitchen and closed the door behind him, trying to calm down.

Jane flinched once he was gone, "Okay, I pushed too far."

"Yeah, like the fact he's been avoiding this area for months just isn't enough, let's actually _talk about it_ ," Darcy said, tone acid.

Jane looked toward the door, "Do you think he'd hear me out if I apologized?"

"Give it a few minutes," Darcy shrugged.

Jane ran a hand over her chin-length hair and nodded, "I didn't mean.... Damn it."

Darcy patted her arm. "It's okay. Steve doesn't _look_ fragile, poor dear, until you remember he is."

"Do you think he's ever not going to be a walking wound?" Jane asked quietly.

"Think the other question might be, who isn't?" Darcy said with a tiny shrug as she looked away.

Jane looked toward where it appeared Tony was not winning the argument about leaving on his own, "No one I know of."

Eric entered, coming over and setting the rolls he was carrying down, "Steve said we were running low."

"We were," Darcy said. "They became very popular today."

"Is Steve—?" Jane asked, trailing off.

Eric glanced at her and then back toward the door, "He said he'd finish up with the next pot of soup and bring it out in a little bit.  He looked like he could use the break, so I figured I'd let him."

Darcy looked between Eric and Jane before deciding Jane looked like she felt bad enough and not making any pointed comments at Eric. "The opening part of the day is usually the busiest," she said with a shrug. "I'm glad we have more help this morning."

Eric nodded his agreement as Jane took advantage of another lull to slip away and into the actual kitchen where she knew she'd find Steve, "Looks like we're going to be losing a couple of our volunteers shortly."  Eric nodded toward Tony and Thor, "But it's certainly kept things running around here more smoothly than usual."

Darcy just shook her head as Tony looked over, noticing that Steve still hadn't reappeared. "Alright, alright," he said finally to Thor. "Your point is made." Thor's look wasn't entirely impressed as Tony strode back over, leaning his palms against the other side of the counter from where he had been standing before, looking from Darcy to Eric. "Thor and I need to leave. Everything alright with tall, blond, and righteous?"

Eric glanced at Darcy and then back at Tony before offering a half-shrug, "As they ever are.  He's dealing with the next batch of soup."

"Right," Tony said and turned away, flipping a hand over his shoulder in a wave. "Well, see you around then."

"Will you be coming back?" Darcy called after him.

He barely paused, tossing over his shoulder, "Sure, next Saturday morning."

Eric blinked rapidly at that, watching them go, "Well, that's unexpected."

Darcy blinked in stunned surprise before covering her mouth with both hands, something like a giggle slipping through. "Oh my god."

That earned her a long look, "Are you going to let me in on the joke?"

"We pick up the _weirdest_ people," is what she managed for a moment. "I wasn't expecting him to come back, either."

That earned an amused shake of Eric's head, "I think I'm reaching the point where predicting what anyone's going to do is a mistake."

"Yeah, thinking so," Darcy nodded. "Steve doesn't think Stark likes him."

"Steve's still not ready to consider that someone might like him," Eric replied.  "And it's possible he won't be."

"Well," Darcy watched Tony and Thor leave, Thor standing at least a head higher. "Stark needs a manual anyway."

Jane entered the kitchen to find Steve exactly where Eric said: finishing up the latest pot of soup, "Steve?"

He didn't turn away from the stove, but his shoulders tightened and when he spoke his voice was strained, "This is almost done.  I'll bring it out when it is."

"Good, I mean Eric mentioned that.  I, I came to apologize actually.  I wasn't, I wasn't thinking and I—"

Steve cut her off, "Don't.  Yeah that hurt like hell, but it's not you.  You think I haven't noticed the sort of people I'm attracted to?  But I'm not trying to replace him."  He cleared his throat sharply when his voice almost broke.

Hovering by the door for a moment longer, Jane moved over to put a hand on Steve's arm, "I know you're not.  You couldn't anyway, he's too important to you."

"I think I know that, but it still scares me that I might.  I don't want to forget him, but at the same time there are days I want nothing more than forgetting.  I'm losing things, things like how his voice sounded, or what the rest of his face did when he smiled."  He sighed and then straightened his shoulders and pulled himself together, "I'm alright, Jane.  But I'm not pursuing anything with Stark, doesn't matter what I think of him."

She paused, nodding, "Okay.  Do you want me to finish the soup and let you go home?"

"No."  He managed to offer her a grin, "No, I'll stick around.  Wouldn't want Darcy coming after me for leaving you all so early.  I'll be out in a couple minutes."

Jane bit her lip, but finally stepped back, offering him a smile, "You better."  She slipped out the door, stopping just long enough to say, "I _am_ sorry, Steve."

Keeping his gaze on the soup, Steve nodded, murmuring as he heard the door open and close, "Yeah, you and me both."


	9. Sycamore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curiosity

Loki pushed the doors of Asgard open, his hand resting for a moment longer than usual on the ravens carved there.  His suit was impeccable, and he was wearing a high-quality green tie that he hadn't worn in ages—he had dug it out of the box that had been shoved in the back of his closet.  He looked far more relaxed and rested than he had since Thor was cast out, and his green eyes were alight, though the smile in them didn't grace his lips.  Glancing around he started for a table in the far corner, already searching through his mental list of Odin's gang and categorizing them by how loyal he knew them to be toward Thor.

Fandral was there moments later. "Who died?" he asked.

"No one, actually," Loki answered almost airily, looking Fandral over for a long moment.  "I do so appreciate the fact that that's the first question you ask me."

"You look happy," Fandral shrugged. "Pleased, even."

"Just thinking about something Odin told me recently about wild cards," Loki mused, leaning back in his seat and looking for all the world like a lanky, contented, cat.

"Right," Fandral said. "If you weren't you, I'd say you finally slept with someone."

Loki's brows arched at that, "What, you don't think I’m attractive enough to entice someone to my bed?"

"Not your issue," Fandral said, arching a brow

Steepling his fingers, Loki offered him an amused look, "Oh, do please enlighten me about my ‘issue’ as you call it."

"You're a bitter little bastard who wouldn't dare let himself be so vulnerable as to—" Fandral paused, staring at Loki's tie.

Pointedly not following that gaze, Loki resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest and partially conceal the tie, "They say that like knows like, so I rather wonder what that says about you."

"Uh-huh," Fandral managed, distracted. "That's one of Thor's ties."

"Thor's never owned a green tie, short of one I bought him as a joke," Loki replied, playing obtuse.

"One he bought you, bastard," Fandral said. "You know, all the stuff that was gone from your apartment?"

"You honestly think I'd throw out a piece of workmanship like this?"  Loki shook his head.  "And people think I'm crazy."

Fandral just stared at him.

Loki tilted his head to one side before leaning forward abruptly, "You're incredibly loyal to Thor.  One has to wonder what you would risk for him."

"Well that's not interesting timing," Fandral managed after a beat.

"I think it's the most interesting since you told him I've been lying to everyone," Loki said with a sharp smile.  "And tipped him off about a certain visit I paid."

"Oh, was that all me?" Fandral said, pulling a face.

"You and the others, I’m sure," Loki replied.  "You just happen to be the one who sat down here.  So, I ask again, what would you risk for Thor?"

"No," Fandral said. "That question only gets answered if you answer it first, all things considered."

"I'd burn this town to the ground and rebuild from its ruins if it came to that.  Anything short of my own life, because it seems rather pointless to get myself killed in pursuit of something I would like to see come to fruition," Loki replied, directly to the point.

Fandral stared at him, the tie, and back to his eyes. "You two," he managed, sounding half frustrated and half fondly amused. "There was no middle ground between killing each other and breaking every moral and legal code was there?"

Loki fell dangerously still at that, before willing himself to relax.  He already knew that Fandral was aware in some way, "There never has been.  Now, I ask you one last time, what will you risk for Thor?"

"Not as much as you," Fandral said after a beat. "Which is good because I think the other option would get me killed. But he's Thor," he shrugged. "And I'm the loyal sort of guy. I'd kill people for him."

Loki's eyebrow rose, "Who?  Who would you lay on the sacrificial altar for Thor's safety?"

Fandral sputtered for a moment. "The words you use," he said, shaking his head. "You're angling for a specific answer, aren't you?"

"One which I'm not yet ready to offer to you," Loki replied, leaning back again.  "But consider whether it's better to work to protect Thor or to be someone between me and that goal.  And I suggest considering those options carefully."

"And I certainly don't intend to," Fandral said. "But I won't give you ideas either. When you're ready, tell me what you want, but my support is not limitless, not for you or your schemes, even if you claim they're all for Thor."

Loki considered him for a long moment, "And the others?  Sif, and Volstagg, and Hogun?"

"Are you joking?" Fandral asked. "Just because I'm the only one willing to speak to you doesn't mean they feel any differently."

Loki's lips curled upward, "Then I suppose I ought to see what I can do about getting ready then."

"You don't have full support," Fandral warned. "Just the strong likelihood of it. And don't hurt Thor, by the way."

"That, I assure you, has moved decidedly off of my list of things to do.  Currently I'm trying to prevent harm from coming to him," Loki said, musing.  "Who else is deeply loyal to him?"

"Us," Fandral said. "Outside of that it gets trickier."

Loki frowned at the tabletop, "That could present a problem in the long run."

"Yeah," Fandral sighed, propping his chin on one hand.

Shaking his head and straightening his back again, Loki ran a finger over the grain of the table top, "Well, it appears I have decisions to make and plans to put into motion then.  Thor seems to be doing well enough for the moment."

"Good to know," Fandral said, the words meaningless but giving Loki a lazy smile.

Loki offered him an unimpressed look, "I'm assuming the lot of you know where he's been staying?"

"We figured it out," Fandral agreed.

He hummed slightly in response, "Have you met the people he's staying with?  Or the man currently employing him?"

"No," Fandral said. "Have you?"

Loki grimaced at that, barely more than a curl of his lip, "No. I've given my word not to cause harm to those he's living with, which for the sake of it not being misconstrued means I probably won't be checking there.  And although I had seen Stark's father at society gatherings, I never spoke to the man and know nothing of the son."

"It's likely he'll be at the party the night after next," Fandral mused. "You know, Xavier's. Which means Thor probably will too."

"And I already agreed to escort Mother to that," Loki said, easily.  "Best to get a read on Stark now rather than later."

"Well if m'lady Frigga is going, you'll certainly need guards," Fandral said, smile sharp.

Loki snorted, "I'm sure Odin's insisting on it.  I'll put a word in Mother's ear for you as one of them.  After all, an Xavier gala is not to be missed."

"So I hear," Fandral agreed, eyes brightening though he carefully held himself from looking too excited.

"Besides, I'll need someone to distract Thor if I find it necessary to drown his employer in the punch."

"Already going to try and veto that," Fandral said after a beat. "Didn't the man save his life?"

"Yes, for which I wouldn't actually kill him," Loki replied.  "As it stands now, though, the entire situation is one giant Gordian knot.  Before you say anything, yes I am aware of the hand I played in that."

"Good," Fandral said, only barely not rolling his eyes.

Loki paused for a long moment, considering their surroundings before speaking in an undertone, "Laufey has temporarily called off his dogs.  Though he didn't say for how long."

"And what did you have to promise him for that?" Fandral murmured back, shifting his hand around his mouth, looking casual but making it hard for anyone to lip read him.

"Things I do not think Thor will forgive me for," Loki replied, rubbing at his chin, even as his green eyes kept a careful watch on the space around them.

"That's what I thought you might say," Fandral murmured.

"It would have been easier to let Thor die," Loki muttered, feeling something twist in his throat at even the thought of it.

"Yeah, sure," Fandral said. "And that would have made you happy."

Loki's lip curled again, "I would be slightly less worried about my own shadows as well, then.  I would have some idea of where exactly to watch for a threat from."

"But you wouldn't have him."

"I do rather wish you were as unobservant as you appear," Loki muttered, his fingers tapping on the table.

"It's better to be underestimated," Fandral shrugged.

"But not exceptionally easy," Loki sighed, disliking the trend his thoughts were taking.  He had been going around in circles ever since his meeting with Laufey, and had narrowed the list of possible sacrifices down a great deal, but there were still too many.

"I'll help within reason," Fandral said. "Think on that. I'll see you for the party."

Loki nodded, pushing himself to his feet, "I promised Mother I would join her today.  Good day, Fandral.  I'll see you later."

"Try not to do anything drastic between then and now," Fandral laughed after him.

"I've had enough drastic measures for the week," Loki replied, his lips kicking up into a faint grin as he swept out.

o-o-o

The door to the police station was flung open and a blonde woman, her bright blue dress highly fashionable and made of expensive material, swept in, every motion indicating she had a purpose to be there as she started toward the fastest route down to the morgue.  She changed directions smoothly when she caught sight of Hank McCoy, "Hank!  There you are, and I didn't even have to go down with the bodies to find you.  This is already going better than planned."

Hank startled, looking over from where he had been handing a report to Logan. "What? Raven? What are you doing here?" Half the station suddenly fell quiet to stare at the new arrival.

She offered him a bright smile, holding out an embossed card inscribed with elegant print that was on paper far too fine to have ever crossed the threshold of the police station before outside of crime scene evidence, "I’m here to notify you that your presence is required.  Tomorrow.  At seven.  At Charles'.  Black tie."

"No," Hank said automatically accepting the card.

Raven snatched the card back from him quickly, "Well, if you're going to be that way about it."  She let her gaze sweep around the office, spotting the way the blond officer at the back of the room seemed to be willing her to burst into flames.  Ignoring him, she grinned as she spotted Emma Frost, "Emma, how would you like to attend one of Charles Xavier's soirees tomorrow night at seven?"

"Oh I would love to," Emma crooned and Hank looked horrified between the two women.

"No," he said, more emphatically.

Raven held the invitation out to Emma, "Wonderful, you're Hank's plus one.  You just have to make sure he's in black tie apparel.  Which I'm afraid will mean you'll have to probably go to that tragedy he calls an apartment."

Emma seemed to consider that before shrugging. "A small price to pay, I suppose. There's a new gown I've simply been dying to try out."

"I have no say in this do I?" Hank asked the ceiling.

"Do you want Charles in here with his blue eyes and his pleading tomorrow?" Raven asked as an answer to Hank's question.

"No," Hank said and groaned. "Can you please not fight dirty in public?"

"I'm not fighting dirty.  You know that that is exactly what would happen if I didn't make sure I had an affirmative for you today," Raven replied.  "So, really, I'm rescuing you by doing this."

"Out of the goodness of your heart and everything," Hank said, ignoring the way Logan was trying to muffle his laughter.

Raven nodded cheerily, "But of course.  And because we never see you anymore."

"Yeah," Hank said snidely. "That's totally your motivation."

"Well, and something has to keep the gossip mill around here going," Raven said with a shrug, turning her attention to Emma.  "Though I'm sure it probably doesn't need my help?"

"Not really," Emma said. "Though there is surprisingly little about Hank here."  Looking at the ceiling, Hank got a resigned expression on his face, like he was buckling in for the long haul of something awful.

"Oh now that is truly tragic," Raven said, considering for a moment.  "Or it's about both of you so you don't hear much of it either."

Emma laughed. "Oh don't worry. I hear all the gossip, even about myself. Though I could only make it worse by mentioning I've seen the travesty he lives in."

"I like it," Hank told the ceiling and Logan excused himself from his desk.

"It really is a travesty.  And Charles has offered to buy him a better place, or he would if Hank would ever let him finish the sentence," Raven said.  "I mean, that _couch alone_.  The least Hank could do is let him help with the furniture."

"That couch is a sin," Emma agreed. "It's not even comfortable!"

"I swear one of these days a spring is going to emerge from a cushion and that is the day I will put my foot against it and shove it out of that apartment myself," Raven said with a firm nod.

"You're the one who helped move it there in the first place," Hank said, still staring at the ceiling and clearly wanting to escape back to the morgue.

Emma shook her head, trying not to grin or make a fool of herself. "Though, I'm not sure it's quite as bad as the thing he calls a kitchen. I mean, really, those plates are from another century."

"Which really, makes them probably about the same age as our fine china," Raven replied, ignoring Hank.  "Just less classy.  I, personally, think the worst aspect of that apartment is the bed."  Her grin turned sharp and it was clear she was saying it just to see what sort of reaction she might get.  It wasn't what she expected as the blond she had noticed when looking for Emma abruptly rose and headed for the door, his brown eyes focused anywhere but at Hank and the two women.

"Oh, that's awful," Emma agreed. "It's barely more than a rusty cot with blankets piled on it."

"There's a mattress," Hank protested. Logan stopped in the doorway, almost bending over again.

"Damn, McCoy," he said. "I didn't realize we paid you so bad."

"I thought he was on about the same payscale as the rest of us?" Steve said from his desk.

"It doesn't matter, he can afford a decent mattress and bedframe, because really, Hank, you'd be better off on the floor," Raven said, offering him a look.  "You'd sleep better, too probably."

"I'm quite as happy with the bed as the couch," Hank snapped and paused. "You've never even been on the bed, Raven!"

Raven offered him a very slight pout at that, "Well, no.  But I've seen it.  And I have stretched out on that couch more than once.  You could have been a gentleman, but I suppose I turned down the bed."  She looked at Emma, "After a few hours on the couch I might actually take the bed."

"It was your fault for showing up at my apartment drunk out of your mind," Hank said. "You deserved what you got. I don't even care if it was technically Erik's fault, you should have known better."

"Knowing better around Erik is not something that comes easily, and you know it," Raven replied, not just talking about herself any more.

"It does seem to be a plague," Hank admitted after a moment and Emma's brows arched. Logan frowned between Raven and Hank, fairly certain an Erik was on their board of known criminals, a tall man full of sharp angles pinned up on one of the corners. But as he was certain Hank would never mention a known anarchist in such a casual manner, he shrugged it off, propping Hank's report in front of him and considering it.

"Well, I really have to run a couple of errands before I get home tonight," Raven looked at Emma.  "We really must talk tomorrow at the party."

"Oh yes," she purred and Hank looked terrified.

Raven offered Emma a bright smile and then stretched up on tiptoe to press a kiss to Hank's cheek, "See you tomorrow night then.  Emma, I look forward to seeing your gown."

"You have ruined whatever reputation I have," Hank told her, put out.

She laughed, "Hank, I think you overestimate the reputation you did have, but I'm sorry if I destroyed that."

"She probably just built you a better one anyway," Emma said, flipping her hair.

"Exactly," Raven said with a bright smile, stepping back.  "Charles will be so happy to know you both can make it."

"I liked the former one just fine," Hank called after her.

She waved over her shoulder in acknowledgement as the door closed behind her.  Alex reappeared almost as soon as she was gone, "She's a piece of work."

"You say that about almost everyone," Steve muttered, his attention on the file in his hands. Alex shot him a dark look, but snapped his mouth shut rather than say anything.

"She's not," Hank started, already coming to the defense. "It just—it takes a while to understand her is all."

Alex offered him a skeptical look, his eyebrows rising and his brown eyes narrowing slightly, "If you say so.  How long've you had to understand her?"

"Since I was," Hank stopped to consider. "Eleven? Twelve?"

Alex blinked at him twice before shrugging, "So a while then.  Childhood friends?"  He tried to convince himself to go back to his desk and ignore whatever was coiling in the pit of his stomach.

"Drive by adoption," Hank said, because it had been exactly that, as even a decade ago, Charles had a clunky car that had stopped abruptly in front of Hank, small for his age and surrounded by bigger children.

"Are those legal?" Alex asked, looking like he somehow doubted it.

Hank shrugged. "No? Yes? After a while of living in a house with two overbearing personalities you just sortta go with it."

"She can't be that much older than you," Alex said, as though that had any relevance to over bearing personalities.

"Her brother's older," Hank said. "Uh, it was mostly legal I think, for him to be our guardian."

"So, what you're saying is that you grew up with money and decided to become a medical examiner?"

"Half grew up," Hank said after a beat as Logan looked at him over the report, a cigar clamped in his mouth.

"Wow," Logan managed. "You really have no excuse for your hole of an apartment do you?"

"I like it," Hank ground out.

"Well if you like it, and like what you do," Steve said with a shrug.

Alex offered Steve a slight scowl, "Really, Rogers?  That's the line you're taking."

"He said he liked it, and seems to have gotten a lot of stuff he's let slide past drawn out today," Steve said, turning around to face Alex.  "You could try backing off, Summers."

"And you could try to make me," Alex replied.

"Please don't fight," Hank managed, voice weak.

Alex glanced at Hank, looking ready to snap in his direction, but he just drew a long breath through his nose and nodded once, "Have a good time tomorrow night, I guess, then."

Hank blinked at him. "Thanks?" he managed. "It's not really about fun," he added, unsure why Alex sounded so angry.

Shrugging, the move barely more than a twitch of his shoulders, Alex turned to head back to his desk, "Well, whatever it is, hope it's good."

"What did I do?" Hank asked Logan in confusion.

"No idea, McCoy," Logan shrugged, grinning around the cigar. "You might not get any more of those marshmallow things you like until you figure it out."

"I can buy them myself," Hank muttered, frazzled.

"He'll cool off," Steve said.  "I don't think I've seen him stay mad at you, yet."

"But he gets so angry again so soon," Hank groaned. "And I never know what I did."

"I don't think anyone ever does," Steve offered, unhelpfully.

"No," Hank agreed. "But..."

Steve looked up at him and paused before shaking his head, "It's something you'd have to actually deal with him about.  I'm the last person to be offering advice on how not to piss Summers off."

"He does seem to really hate you," Logan said. "And hey, he doesn't forgive you like McCoy here either."

Steve grinned lopsidedly at that, "And yet, somehow, I manage to survive." Logan shook his head as Hank sighed and glanced at Emma who was still giving him a smirk before finally deciding the only course of action was retreat.

o-o-o

Steve considered the shelves in front of him, picking up a can of soup and turning it around in his hand.  His day had been long, but he knew his pantry and ice box were practically empty and it was the best day for him to pick up food.  He paused, half turning when he heard a step to his left, offering a hint of a smile to the man he saw there, "Didn't think I'd run into you here."

"Everyone has to eat," Thor said cheerfully.

"That's very true.  Guess it just seemed a little early, is all."

"Early?" Thor smiled over at him, dressed casually still.

Steve shrugged, "I figured you'd still be with Mr. Stark."

"Did you," Thor mused, not meeting his eyes. "Fair enough, I suppose," he said, not mentioning that Tony had a meeting with Laufey and thus would not be needing him that evening.

"He's...rather confusing, isn't he?"

"Who? Anthony?" Thor frowned over at him instead of the soup, fretting over the fact he would not be there that night.

Steve nodded, finally coming to a decision and grabbing a second can of the soup.

"How so?" Thor asked, also confused by the man but probably not in the same ways Steve seemed to be.

"I'm not sure I can really pinpoint it.  He seems like he's all over.  One minute he's sharp, laughing, and the next he's shut down completely," Steve shrugged.  "I wouldn't say it really matters.  It's just disorienting, and Darcy says he's going to be back to the soup kitchen again."

"Are you?" Thor asked. "Or were you just trying to placate Darcy?"

"I don't say things just to placate people," Steve said, his voice tense and he reminded himself that Thor would not know that.  "I'll be back again."

"Good," Thor said, smile breaking out on his face.

"They seem to like you," Steve said after a moment.

"I'm glad," Thor said, smiling vaguely at the row of food in front of them before looking at Steve. "I rather like them."

Steve nodded very slightly, "Good.  They asked me about you, you know."

Thor tensed slightly but nodded. "What about?"

"Just what I knew.  Which, really, isn't much. Like I said, they like you, and from what you've said you'll do your best to keep them out of any trouble you're in."

"And what did you tell them?" Thor asked, his voice not much different but his blue eyes sharp.

"Just that you changed places when you started working for Stark.  They'd pretty much figured out anything else on their own," Steve replied, watching the other man's eyes and body language.

Thor nodded slightly. "How long have you been with the police force?"

Steve's expression closed off slightly at that question, "A few years."

Thor arched his brows. "Alright," he said. "And how long have you understood this world?"

"Long enough," Steve said, shifting his weight very slightly so he was facing Thor more directly.

"Indeed?" Thor arched a brow and looked him up and down. "You grew up near the streets, didn't you? The petty gangs with guns and brass knuckles and no sense?"

Steve's jaw tensed and he nodded once, "I grew up at the edge of those, yeah."

"Then you don't really understand," Thor said, musing. "But believe me when I say, that if it comes to it, I will protect them. There won't be an attempt, or a try."

"You seem pretty confident you can do that for someone who got tossed out on the mercy of the merciless," Steve said.

Thor smiled. "Perhaps a few days ago even I wouldn't have been so sure either. But I am now."

Steve considered him for a long moment before nodding, "Good."  He relaxed ever so slightly as he spoke again, "Darcy mentioned you like red quite a bit."

Thor slowly arched his brows. "Yes."

Steve shook his head, "That was a bit of a randomly chosen topic change, wasn't it?"

"It sounded quite meaningful," Thor added, amused.

"It's not a bad color, just not one you see much in ties," Steve said, glancing briefly at the tie Thor was wearing.

"Darcy and Jane had tried to impress that much on me," Thor said with a shrug. "But it—" he paused, looking back over at Steve. "Did they tell you, or did you tell them?"

Steve flashed him a grin, "Not sure which answer's better."

"One's slightly more informative than the other."

"I'm sure it is.  Thinking I'll let you figure that one out on your own."

"You know," Thor said with too much meaning in his voice. "Anthony may seem difficult to figure out at first, but it's not actually that difficult."

Steve did his best to keep his expression neutral at that, "Really now?"

"Well," he paused. "Perhaps it is difficult. But certainly not impossible. I have found there are a couple key concepts to keep in mind and most things make sense after that. Or to find one of his translators."

"He comes with translators?"  Steve shook his head.

"I've found two," Thor said, expression a little too knowing. "If they like you, mind."

That earned a wry grin before Steve cleared his expression and stance, "Not that it really matters."

"Really?"

"Oh please don't start," Steve muttered under his breath before he shrugged.  "Really.  I don't see why it would."

"At the very least you seem to like him," Thor said. "Doesn't that matter?"

"It might, I guess," Steve shrugged.  "I guess I'll have to see as I go."

"You're allowed to like people," Thor said.

Steve's lips kicked up in a hint of a smile, "Yeah, it's just complicated sometimes."

"Well, is it worth it otherwise?" Thor asked and seemed to realize quite suddenly that perhaps other people had not grown up with Loki as their playmate.

"I've only met him three times.  Not exactly easy to get a read on whether it is or not in that space."

"So far I have found Anthony to be quite worth it," Thor admitted. "No matter what he convinces other people to believe."

"I don't doubt that.  I just," he shook his head.  "We'll see."

Thor considered him and shrugged. "He plans to come back. Maybe you could try again."

"If my time off lines up, maybe I will try again."  He paused for a moment, looking Thor over, "Take care of yourself, yeah?"

"That's not my greatest concern," Thor admitted, though perhaps it should have been.

Steve paused for a long moment, "If I ask you something, entirely off the record what are the chances you'll answer it? Nothing incriminating I promise."

Thor slowly arched a brow. "It depends on the question."

Steve offered a wry smile at that expression, "Not that this all wasn't already off the record of course.  What are your thoughts on Stane?"

"Obadiah Stane?" Thor asked in surprise. Steve nodded, rocking back on his heels slightly. Thor paused for a long moment, mouth twisting. "He is... he is a good businessman. He has talent at manipulating people to not even realizing what he's done to them. But, he's very cruel too."

Steve frowned at that, "I was afraid you were going to say that.  I'd really hoped I'd read him wrong."

"Anthony adores him," Thor frowned, obviously struggling with his disapproval of the idea and trying not to dwell too much on where Obadiah and Tony were without him.

Pausing for a long moment, Steve shook his head, "That's concerning.  From what I've seen, he's the one Stane's trying to dig his hooks the furthest into."

"Trying?" Thor asked.

"Or has dug, I guess."  Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "Stane knows how to find vulnerabilities and it's....Forget it."

Thor frowned at him. "You may as well continue at this point."

"I've seen his type before, is all.  He dresses in nicer suits, but the personality's the same," Steve said.

Thor nodded slightly. "He wants certain things and has no qualms to get them. I don't see the pair of you ever getting along."

Steve grimaced, "I don't see the pair of us ever trying."

Thor hesitated before reaching out and patting Steve on the shoulder. "You're a good man," he said, sounding almost bemused.

Steve blinked rapidly at that, before offering Thor a crooked grin, "You know you've got a reputation of being a good man yourself.  Maybe not morally white, but a good man.  Stark's lucky to have you watching his back."

Thor grinned, full of teeth and not saying the first thing he thought of. "I rather hope that's true."

Steve considered the expression and nodded ever so slightly, "Well, I should see about getting my shopping done so I can get home and get some supper.  It was good to see you, and I'll see you around the soup kitchen."

Thor nodded, already starting to fret again about the evening to come. "Say, the police don't get invitations to Xavier's parties, do they?"

That startled a laugh out of Steve, "Funny story, actually.  For the most part, no.  But apparently our medical examiner is a family friend or some such.  He'll be there."

"Really?" Thor asked in surprise. "Who is that?"

"Henry McCoy," he paused. "What brought on the question?"

"I admit I was almost hoping you might be there to distract Stane," Thor shrugged, already thinking of whether Loki would be there or not.

Steve shook his head, offering a faint smile, "Unfortunately no."

"Ah well," Thor said. "I will keep an eye out for this McCoy."

"If you see Raven Xavier, it's likely that McCoy won't be far off from her.  She brought his invitation in this morning," Steve said, shaking his head.  "Set the gossip mill moving, which I think was her goal."

Thor laughed, having met Raven a few times. "Yes, I imagine that would likely be her. Does she know McCoy well then?"

"Apparently.  He said they'd known each other since he was about eleven, I think?  She's quite the personality."

"Ah," Thor snapped his fingers. "Yes, I remember hearing about McCoy. Wasn't he adopted?"

"Something like that.  Raven's brother was their guardian I think," Steve nodded.

Thor nodded. "I met him once, long ago. He seemed like a shy child. You said he joined the force?"

"He's the medical examiner.  Young for the job, but good at it."

"Huh," Thor said and nodded. "He did seem smart for his age."

Steve nodded, "That sure does describe him.  He's smart, a quick thinker, and long-suffering which is probably a good thing working with cops."

Nodding, Thor's smile was full of teeth again but he refrained some saying what he thought. "I look forward to seeing him again tomorrow night. Enjoy dinner," he added, trying not to stare at the scant food Steve had already picked out.

"Thanks, good luck to you," Steve said, touching his brow before turning away to go pay for what he had. Thor frowned after that, having been hoping Steve had only started his shopping. Sighing, he shook his head at himself, because he already had enough people to worry about.


	10. Deep Red Carnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas! For My Poor Heart

Obadiah paused in the doorway, squinting for a moment into the darkened room beyond before finding Tony framed against the windowsill. For a moment he stood there watching, the sun having already set but the sky not fully dark yet as smoke curled from the cigarette in Tony's hand.

"A soup kitchen?" he asked finally and Tony looked over.

"It's good publicity," he said as Obadiah stepped into the room, joining him at the window and plucking a cigarette from the pack on the windowsill by Tony's knee. He used his own lighter, watching the light reflect off Tony's eyes for a second. "I mean, it's not a bad thing to get involved in."

"A soup kitchen," Obadiah repeated. "It's downright noble of you. Your father would never have thought of it."

He could see the way Tony tensed, leaning back against the window frame. "Good for us I'm not my dad, then."

Obadiah snorted and took a deep drag of the cigarette. "Tonight," he said, warning heavy in his voice. "You will be mindful, won't you?"

"You mean, not to run my mouth off at Laufey considering he already wants to shoot me between the eyes because I took Thor away from him?" Tony asked. "Sure. I'll be good."

Hand flexing, Obadiah gave him a disbelieving look. "You can't wear sunglasses to dinner," he warned, mouth pressed into a thin line and Tony laughed.

"God, Obi, I know," he said, dropping from the window. "Happy's coming with us, right?"

"Yeah," Obadiah nodded, folding his hands over his chest and leaning forward slightly to make Tony lean his head back to look at him. "We need this meeting to go well, Tony."

"I know," Tony said, waving one hand before patting Obadiah's chest with it. "Just trust me, alright?"

There was a light tap on the doorframe, Happy standing there, backlit by the light in the hall, "The car's ready, sir, when you're ready."

"Think we're good to go," Tony said, heading for the door and paused, looking over his shoulder. "We are, right?"

Obadiah stubbed the cigarette out on the ashtray near where Tony had been sitting. "Yeah."

Happy nodded, stepping back out of the doorway, watching Obadiah for a moment before looking to Tony again, "I brought around the Packard, thought you'd prefer that one tonight."

Tony grinned at him, still holding the cigarette in one hand, the other tucked into his back pocket. "And this is why I pay you obscene amounts of money."

"Well, that and knowing how to drive them, and take care of them," Happy replied with a brief smile.

"That? I could pay almost anyone for that," Tony waved a dismissive hand, smoke following the motion.

Happy nodded, his lips still tilted up in a hint of an amused smile, "Well, I'm glad it's me then.  Not sure everyone would know the Rolls is too much for a dinner meeting."

"Uh," Tony blinked at him. "Who said a Rolls would be too much for a dinner meeting?"

"I was thinking the Rolls for tomorrow's party," Happy explained.  "Thought the Packard was better for tonight. Not much difference, but just enough to separate the two."

Tony grinned, both hands in his pockets as he rocked forward and back slightly as they walked. "Alright, first, the Rolls is always appropriate but I appreciate your foresight."

Happy chuckled as they stepped out of the front door, "I'll remember that.  Make sure you use the Rolls more, in that case."

"Good man," Tony said, patting his shoulder once before quickly withdrawing his hand.

Happy nodded, flashing Tony a grin before schooling his features again and opening the back door of the Packard, "Of course, sir."

"Yes, thank you," Tony said, trying to sound stiff and failing at the formality.

Happy chuckled at that, cutting of the sound as both Tony and Obadiah got into the back of the car.  Closing the door, he circled the Packard and slid in behind the wheel, starting it up and pulling away.

"Are we actually offering Laufey anything, or just kindly asking him to ignore us?" Tony asked, looking out the window.

"I think it would be best if you let me do the talking," Obadiah said after a moment and Tony frowned at him.

Happy glanced in the rearview mirror at that, thinking that Obadiah might have a point but recognizing that Tony would resent it.  They pulled up outside the restaurant and Happy got out of the car, opening the door for Tony and Obadiah again.

Tony slid out of the car in one fluid motion, looking at the bright lights around the doorway. "Fancy," he said and Obadiah placed a hand on his shoulder, steering him inside.

"Only the best," he agreed, Tony letting himself be maneuvered.

Happy closed the door, following a step behind them.  The weight of the gun under his arm was reassuring as they entered the restaurant and approached the table where Laufey was already seated with Helblindi and Surtr his guard.

Tony's smile was easy as he sat down, Obadiah beside him. "I see you already took the best seats," Tony said and Laufey slowly tilted his head to consider him before waving a hand for the waiter.

"You're the one who called the meeting," Laufey said. "Which means we get to pick the table and seats."

"What, like a duel?" Tony asked, head cocked to one side. "Challenged gets to choose weapons?"

Laufey's smile was ice. "Something like that."

Helblindi looked Tony up and down, passing judgment on him as either reckless or stupid before he spoke, "Seems only fair, doesn't it?"  Surtr glanced at Laufey's son and the young man caught his gaze briefly before leaning back in his chair.

Tony opened his mouth, glanced at Obadiah and smiled again instead. "If this is a battle," he said.

"You're the one to introduce that metaphor," Laufey said, leaning forward and Tony tilted his chin back because Laufey even sat nearly a head above him.

"More like a chess game," Helblindi offered, picking up his water glass and sipping from it. 

Happy watched the three members of Laufey's gang, but part of his attention was on Tony.  It would have been far easier with another person there so his attention wasn't divided, he supposed Obadiah’s presence could count.

"I've always been better at checkers," Tony said, tone idle and Obadiah turned his head slightly to stare at him as a waiter approached, cautiously clearing his throat.

Helblindi glanced at the waiter briefly, handing over his menu with his order and stopping himself just short of ordering for Surtr at a blink and you would miss it glance from the guard.

Tony didn't glance at the menu, too busy watching Laufey pretend to peruse it, and catching the brief glance between the other two. He handed the menu back to the waiter, never even having opened it. "Whatever you like that's expensive."

Once the orders were taken, the waiter retreated from the tension at the table with ill-disguised relief.  Helblindi watched him go before turning his attention back to the men across the table from his father, "Checkers?  I've never seen the appeal."

"Really?" Tony asked. "I mean, it's all about strategy too, but jumping over your opponent to get what you want.”

Helblindi let his gaze sweep over Tony for a moment, "I suppose I can envision that appealing to you."

Obadiah bristled more than Tony. "What does that mean?"

Helblindi's gaze darted toward Obadiah at the way his shoulders tensed, but he turned his focus back on Tony, "I'm certain you'll figure it out, given time. _Rumor_ has it you're quite intelligent."

"Yeah?" Tony asked. "What else do the rumors say?"

Nearly answering, Helblindi saw Surtr adjust the arrangement of the utensils at his place setting from the corner of his eye and offered a lazy shrug instead, "Well, they're really only just getting started about you."

"Really?" Tony asked, disappointed. "That's your diplomatic answer?"

"Whether it is or not, it's the answer you'll get," Helblindi answered easily.

"Oh come on," Tony prodded.

Helblindi considered him for a long moment before finally answering, his smile thin, "Rumor has it that you got sent to school back east because you got yourself into trouble every time you turned around, because you were reckless and didn't choose your friends wisely."

"Friends?" Tony drew the word out, as if considering it.

"So they say.  And also that you gained quite the reputation for...friendliness while you were away," Helblindi replied smoothly.

That earned a laugh from Tony. "How kind."

"Is that why you took Thor away from my grasp?" Laufey asked suddenly and Tony looked over, posture still relaxed and lazy. Helblindi leaned back in his chair, lips curving upward as he watched the exchange, not acknowledging the waiter who had returned and was making quick work of setting their orders in front of them before retreating again.

"What, an abundance of friendliness?" Tony asked and Laufey leaned forward again.

"There was no other reason for you to take him." When Obadiah opened his mouth Laufey abruptly motioned for him to be quiet, still watching Tony intently.

Swallowing, Tony's eyes narrowed slightly and even though the plate in front of him looked expensive and delicious, he ignored it completely. "Maybe I just don't like bullies."

"But perpetrators of massacres are right up your alley?" Helblindi asked, eyebrows arching sharply.

"He's pretty insistent he's innocent," Tony shrugged. "Or don't you people believe in our good American values anymore?"

"Well, of course he insists he's innocent," Helblindi replied, carefully cutting his meat into bite-sized pieces.

"People are innocent until they're proven guilty," Tony snapped back.

"Do we look like the judicial system?" The other young man replied, testily.

"No," Tony shrugged. "But we're all supposed to have good old fashioned American values?"

"Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," Helblindi rattled off.  "None of which has anything to do with innocence or guilt or presumption of either."

"No, but our justice system believes in it, doesn't it?" Tony asked and Obadiah tried to school his face into a blank look.

Helblindi shook his head at that, ignoring the slight click as Surtr set his fork down, "Of course they do.  But do you really think that they would look at this situation and see an innocent man before they saw a culprit?"

"I'll have to ask them the next time I see them," Tony said, flippant and Obadiah might have ripped a napkin in half, looking at Tony out of the corner of his eye.

"You're very mouthy for someone in such a fragile position," Laufey said, finally speaking after he had spent so long listening and watching.

"Fragile?" Tony asked, looking at him in surprise. "What about my position is fragile? I'm swimming in cash, whiskey, and goodwill for making such wholesome and entertaining movies. My contacts are in Russia, Canada, and even Europe. I'm getting more money every day from our sort of business and more and the public loves me."

"I could still ruin you, pup," Laufey said, voice too quiet.

Happy's attention snapped away from where he had been watching Tony to suddenly focus on Laufey, having no doubt the man could easily carry through with that threat on multiple levels.  Helblindi watched his father from the corner of his eye, having found Stark's continued replies interesting and what went unspoken on the other man's part intriguing.  He still resented the order his father had handed down after the younger Odinson had been to see him that Thor was not to be touched until Laufey said otherwise.

"No, you couldn't," Tony said, propping an elbow up and holding out his hand. "First of all, you're already at war with Odin, you don't want to open up two fronts, because you're smarter than that. You also wouldn't want to drive your rivals together. So if you decide to come after me, it'd be after you take care of him and I'd be ready for it. And that's if you come after me because if this was still about Thor you already would have or you aren't." He paused, smile turning sharp. "Besides, you aren't nearly as powerful as you want everyone to think."

Laufey snarled at him but Tony just breezed through. "You have too much territory and too few people. Your warehouses down by the waterfront? Are barely guarded anymore. I could knock them down in a night, if I wanted. You're trading on reputation and old money. You're a fossil, Laufey, not the future. You wouldn't even know how to find that if you were looking for it!" He tilted his head. "You aren't powerful anymore."

Helblindi's lips curled back in an echo of his father's snarl, his entire body tensing and he barely felt the way Surtr's hand brushed his leg under the table as a reminder to let his father handle this, "Because you have so much power as new blood in this city."

"Not new blood," Tony said. "Old blood with new ideas."

"New ideas, but not necessarily new management," Helblindi's gaze flicked to Obadiah and then back to Tony.  "They make for bad combinations."

"Funny, I think having the legitimacy of age and the ability to adapt would be the best thing," Tony said as Laufey rose, knocking his chair over. He leaned over the table, braced on his hands until his face was inches away from Tony's.

"You better hope it takes me a long time to destroy Odin, because I'll come for you."

"I'd like to see you try," Tony said, tilting his chin back, lazy and insolent.

Helblindi's eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out if Stark really believed his bravado, or if he was playing at it.  Either way he was treading a dangerous line—Laufey's son was well aware of the older gangster's ire and the consequences it could have.  He opened his mouth to say something, but another almost imperceptible touch to his leg stopped him and he set his napkin down on the table beside his plate instead.

Laufey simply blinked once at Tony before sliding back into a standing position, towering over the other for a moment before sweeping out of the restaurant entirely. Helblindi and Surtr followed close on his heels, having risen as he straightened.  The door closed firmly behind the three of them and Happy stared after their exit before turning an uncertain glance back to Obadiah and Tony.

"I'm not sure, but I think I want to kill you," Obadiah said after a moment.

Tony shrugged, looking around the table. "Bastards. They left us with the bill for their half-eaten food."

Happy's attention turned fully to Obadiah as he tried to sort out the tone and words the man had used for a moment before he looked to Tony, "Should I bring the car up front while the bill gets sorted?"

"Yes," Tony said and Obadiah shook his head, looking bemused and annoyed in a fond way.

Hesitating for half a moment longer, Happy finally pushed his chair back and rose, leaving to fetch the car and figure out what he was going to tell Rhodey and Miss Potts about the evening.

o-o-o

Steve shifted his shopping bag to his other arm, the contents scant but enough for dinner that night and breakfast and lunch the following day.  It was supposed to have been a payday that day, but someone had gotten scrambled and his check was somehow hung up for another couple of days which meant day by day meal purchases until that was sorted.  Canned soup, while not especially satisfying was enough to get by on easily enough.  He tensed, pausing as he caught motion out of the corner of his eye and turned, blinking rapidly as he caught sight of Tony Stark, who was leaning against a table, flirting with a bleached blonde actress. She lightly hit him on the arm, still smiling as she rose and entered the cafe they were standing in front of, leaving Tony standing alone.

Hesitating for a moment, Steve ignored the twist in his gut at that sight and headed toward the other man, "Stark!"

"Why, Steve Rogers," Tony said, turning his head slowly.

"Didn't expect to run into you again so soon," Steve remarked.

"Well," Tony said, smile freezing. "If you'd rather just keep walking."

Steve blinked rapidly at that, "There are so many ways that interpretation of what I just said is wrong that I don't even know where to start."

"Oh, is it?" Tony asked, sounding causal.

"There's a difference between unexpected and unwanted," Steve said before he thought it through.

"Is there?" Tony asked but his smile looked less frozen, shades hiding his eyes like usual, though the street was slowly darkening as the sun went down. "What's that, anyway?" he asked, looking at the bag in Steve's hands.

"What?"  He looked at the bag as well, having half forgotten it, "Oh, dinner.  And breakfast and lunch."

Tony arched a brow, coming up over the edge of the shades before darting forward and grabbing the bag. Steve fumbled to maintain hold of the bag, but released it after a brief moment, "What are you doing?"

Tony peered into the bag and blinked at the scant food in it. "I'm sorry, did you say this was three meals?"

"It's enough for three meals," Steve defended, reaching to take the bag back.

Making a horrified sound at the back of his throat, Tony looked down to consider the new wrist watch he had. Pepper had gifted it to him last week and threatened him to wear it so he would be on time for appointments. "Like hell that is. I mean, you have a well-stocked pantry to supplement that, right?"

"Pay day's tomorrow," Steve lied.

Tony looked up at him without fully lifting his head, shades having slid down his nose when he looked in the bag. "That's a no, then."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and sighed, "Yeah that's a no.  May I have my groceries back?"

Tony handed the bag back and checked his watch again. "Oh for the love of god," he muttered, clearly more to himself. "Come on then."

"What?  Where are we going?" Steve asked, shifting the bag in his arms and falling into step with Tony without protest.

Tony stopped, leaning down against the driver’s window frame where Happy was sitting in the car. "Say. Meet me say, seven thirty at that place, you know, the one Pepper loves but hates to admit?"

Happy raised an eyebrow at him, looking past him at Steve, "Seven thirty?"

"It's gonna take more than one course at this point," Tony said. "Besides, fashionably late, Happy."

His driver offered him a wry smile and shook his head, "Do you want me to drive you there?"

"Naw," Tony said, patting the window frame and leaning back. He took off down the street, barely looking over his shoulder to make sure Steve was following.

Steve paused for a moment before hurrying to catch up to Tony again, "Where are we going again?  And did you say courses?"

"You need to be fed," Tony said as if that explained everything.

"I eat," Steve protested.  "I have food in hand right this minute."

"Oh my god," Tony said. "That's only convincing me you've never had a decent meal in your life."

"I have.  And most meals don't require courses.  That seems...excessive."

Tony grunted. "You should be excessive sometimes. We live in Hollywood."

"I had actually noticed that, strangely enough," Steve said with a hint of a smile.

"Have you?" Tony tilted his head back slightly and grinned at him. "You might have fooled everyone else."

Returning the grin, Steve shrugged, "I do a pretty decent job hiding that fact."

"Yeah?" Tony asked. "Well, shut up, Rogers, because no one with canned soup should turn down a free meal."

"It's not bad canned soup," Steve protested, half-heartedly.  "I mean, it doesn't hold a candle to homemade soup, but it does the job."

"Uh-huh," Tony said, shaking his head.

"You don't believe anything I'm saying at this point, do you?"  Steve grinned, sounding as amused as he looked.

"I might believe a little bit of it," Tony managed after a moment.

"But not about the soup," Steve clarified.

"It's alright, dear, you just haven't been exposed to the right food yet."

Steve blinked rapidly at him at the endearment, "So you're taking me to dinner.  At a place with _courses_."

"Well, yeah," Tony said, as if that answer should have been as obvious to everyone else as it was to him.

"I'm not sure how to express how far underprepared I am for that.  For god's sake, Stark, I grew up in a part of town that makes this seem like another planet."

"So you get a new experience then," Tony said. "Something to cross off the list of things you never knew you needed to do."

Steve glanced at him, bemused, "I'm not dressed for this.  I left my nice suit at home before going into the office today."

"You have one?" Tony asked. "Doesn't matter. I mean, no suit you own would be good enough and no one's gonna say anything to my face either."

"Must be nice," Steve murmured more to himself than to Tony.

"Sure," Tony said, hearing. "Nice enough they don't say anything until your back is turned."

Steve huffed out a breath, "In this outfit at a restaurant like that, they're going to figure I'm a charity case or jump to other conclusions."

"Yeah?" Tony said and his fingers itched to shake Steve and demand to know exactly which conclusion he was thinking of. "Because alright you don't want to be a charity chase but what exactly's got you more worried than that?"

That earned another shrug, "Nothing."

Tony stopped, several facades down from his goal and turned to look at Steve. "What, you think they're going to assume your my lover?"

Steve snorted at that, not hesitating over his response through long practice, "I would assume that your lover would be better dressed if you were to take them out to dinner at a place like this."

"I would assume they wouldn't be a cop," Tony said back. "Be pretty stupid, don't you think?" He wanted to walk off a pier for even mentioning the possibility of that suspicion. "So I'm not sure what you're worried anyone's going to assume."

"Depends on who sees us, I suppose," Steve replied with another shrug.  "Look, does it really matter?"

"You're the one who was worried about it. Just say we're friends if anyone asks if you're a charity case," he added over his shoulder, already moving again.

Steve drew a deep breath and reminded himself of things like caution and sense before he moved to catch up to Tony again, "I suppose I ought to actually call you by your name then, huh?"

"Whatever you like," Tony said.

Pausing outside the restaurant, Steve looked at it for a long moment, "This is way too much.  You barely know me."

"How does that make it too much?" Tony asked, pushing his shades up to rest in his hair.

Steve glanced at him and blinked twice at the removal of the sunglasses, managing only to repeat himself, "I, well, it's just an awful lot."

"Honestly? Money's not a lot to me," Tony said. "Now, if I was giving you..." but he couldn't think of anything he had in short supply that could actually be given as a gift. "Something I made," he managed finally. "That would be different."

"I..."  Steve drew a breath and decided that there was no way he was winning this, "If you say so.  Dinner then?"

Tony turned on his heel. "Besides, weren't you going to teach me how to take down someone bigger? Consider this a down payment."

"I was, yes.  Darcy mentioned you're going back to the kitchen next Saturday?" Steve checked, following Tony into the restaurant.

"Maybe," Tony said. "I didn't promise anything."

"It'd be nice to see you there," Steve offered.

"Would it?" Tony asked, looking over, his eyes wide before he turned just as abruptly back around and pushed open the door to the restaurant, stepping from the street into a world of glittering deco design and red tablecloths with gold scattered everywhere.

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but ended up drawing a sharp breath at the decor in the restaurant as he tried not to stare too obviously.  It was extravagant, and he was more convinced than ever that he was in the wrong place, but it fit Tony in ways he was not quite willing to contemplate.

"Excuse me," the maître d’ said, noticing two people walk in from off the street. "We—Oh. Mr. Stark." His entire bearing changed and he even smiled. "Would you like a table then?"

"Yes, for two," Tony said, grin wide and the maître d’ paused, looked Steve up and down with an arched brow before nodding and turning quickly.

Steve rocked back on his heels, murmuring under his breath, "So that's what it’s like to have a name and money."

Tony glanced back at him, eyes flashing for a moment before turning back around. "It's the nice side of it."

Steve blinked at that expression, "Well, I'd imagine there are downsides to any sort of life."

"Course there are," Tony said, not looking over at him again.

The maître d' returned before Steve could sort out how to respond to that, "If you'll follow me, Mr. Stark, your table is ready for you and your," he paused to cast another glance at Steve, "guest."

"Friend," Tony corrected, irritated. "And friend."

The maître d' inclined his head in acknowledgement, "Of course, sir."

Tony shook his head as he followed, glancing at Steve again as they walked. "You could at least relax your shoulders you know."

Steve managed a weak grin at that as he tried to relax even a little bit, "Not used to somewhere this....classy."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it now," he said in a low voice, hearing the sniff from the man in front of them.

Steve shrugged, pretending he couldn't see the less than surreptitious glances from other patrons and the way the staff watched them as they reached their table, "Figured I’d go with the nice term."

"Relax," Tony said as he sat down, automatically sprawling artfully in the chair. "We're just friends, out for dinner. Don't watch them watching you."

Steve settled into the seat across from Tony, shifting his shoulders against the glances he could feel from the other patrons, "Is that how you do it?"

Tony shrugged, eyes dark in the glittering lights. "If you act like you don't give a damn what they see, they won't watch, unless you do something spectacularly stupid. Act like you can't stand them watching and they won't look anywhere else."

Eyes darting away from Tony's, Steve's lips curled upward faintly, "You know, strangely, that makes a lot of sense."

"It's a skillset," Tony said, flicking one hand up and spreading his fingers out. "Just like any other. You're pretty and charismatic. If you relax you'll do pretty well."

Steve grinned at that, gesturing with a hand at his off-the rack suit, "Even in a suit like this?"

"Well, you're starting at a disadvantage, I give you that," Tony said with a shrug.

Opening his mouth to reply to that, Steve paused, blinking twice, "Did you just call me 'pretty'?"

Tony swallowed and grinned, lazy. "What? You are. In that really annoying, classical way."

"You know, I've been called a lot of things, but I can honestly say that's a new one," Steve said with a grin, smoothing a non-existent rumple in the tablecloth rather than look at Tony's grin.

"Seriously?" Tony laughed. "What have you been called?" He glanced at the menu, trying to make sure his expression didn't change.

Steve picked up his own menu, determined that he didn't recognize more than half of the dishes and set it aside again, which left him nothing to do with his hands, "A lot of things that can't be repeated in polite company, or really in public."

Tony's eyebrows shot up and he looked up, startled. "What? No, now you have to tell me. I promise I'm not polite company."

"Oh the usual run, 'bastard', 'son of a whore'—man who said that didn't walk for a couple months—'self-righteous do-gooder'.  Oh a more complimentary side?  'Charming', 'handsome', 'nice'," Steve answered with a grin.

Tony blinked and grinned. "Alright. Well I won't insult your mother then. Well handsome and charming is the same basic thing just in different words."

Steve offered him another smile, straightening a spoon, "Probably.  I gotta say I like 'charismatic' a bit more than 'charming'."

"Charismatic it is then," Tony said, flipping the menu.

"What about you?  Any preferences for what people call you?"

Only a strangled sound escaped Tony's mouth, which considering the hysterical laughter that had tried to escape, that felt like quite a feat. "Sure. Loads of preferences that nobody listens to."

Steve considered him for a long moment, before speaking softly, "Try me."

His entire expression seemed to slide off his face as Tony's eyes flickered across Steve's face, as if trying to find something there. "Well," he said, mustering himself. "I'd rather not be called lazy, good for nothing," and actually saying what he'd rather not be called was possibly worse than having bit the bullet and saying how he'd rather be considered. "Preferences would rather be filthy rich and gorgeous—" he almost added genius and stopped.

Steve gaped at him for a moment before snapping his mouth shut and watching him for a long moment, "People have genuinely called you the first and not the last?  Are they blind?"  His blue eyes widened very slightly as he realized what he'd said.

Tony's fingers twitched. "Well, when it's," and he broke off because of course his father would call him one and not the other because their relationship had been broken enough.

When the waiter approached, Tony offered them a beaming smile because it meant not looking at Steve and rattled off an entire order before finally glancing back at Steve. "—If that's alright."

Steve offered him a grin, "I recognized less than half of what was on that menu, I'm sure it's fine."

"Oh," Tony said. "Good," and waited for the waiter to leave, before looking back at Steve with some more composure. "Look, you asked what I preferred to be called, not what I am or was."

Steve met his eyes, momentarily taken aback by the raw emotion there, "I guess I'm not used to people knowing what they don't want to be called so specifically unless they've been called that before."

"Well, the gorgeous thing," he said, grinning lazily again. "That I've been called."

Shaking his head, Steve smiled, "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

"Well you've never been called pretty, sugar, so anything can be surprising."

Steve felt his cheeks warm at that endearment, "I thought we decided that 'handsome' was practically the same thing."

"True that," Tony said, not quite looking at him. "See? You've relaxed and now no one's staring at you."

"I guess it's the charm of being around you," Steve replied, and immediately hoped the floor would open up and swallow him.  What the hell was he doing?

Tony's eyes widened and then he grinned. "I guess so. People are usually pretty absorbed in their own stuff though."

"And sometimes they come out of that absorption to help at soup kitchens, or to invite people to dinner," Steve replied, a smile tugging at his lips.  "Am I allowed to thank you for this?"

Blinking, Tony looked at him. "Yeah?" he offered in confusion.

"Some people don't like to be thanked," Steve shrugged.  "But thank you."

For a long moment Tony didn't move. "You're welcome," he said and then his hands were fluttering through the air again because there was nothing to ground them, nothing to hold and work on. "Anyway, what do you do with yourself?"

"Well, I," Steve paused before answering, "I work.  When I'm not doing that, and I have a little money on hand, I like to go to art galleries.  Haven't been to one in a while, things keep coming up."

"Art galleries are your hobby?" Tony asked, eyebrows going up.

"Art in general's my hobby," Steve admitted.  "I sketch a bit.  They're not very good."

"Really?" Tony asked. "What do you draw?"

"Whatever's on my mind.  I've done landscapes, people—not very good with those—some animals," Steve shrugged very slightly, the smile on his lips almost shy.  "It's just something to do with my hands, really."

Tony looked up from where he had finally tried to ground himself by holding and twisting the napkin. "So what sort of art do you like to go see?"

"Mostly older stuff, I'm not really up on the more modern artists.  But I haven't taken time for them either.  I haven't seen much of the modern stuff that _means_ something to me, yet."

"Is that your criteria?" Tony asked, head tilted to one side.

"Pretty much," Steve grinned.  "I mean, it's what really matters with art, isn't it?  That it means something, and not _just_ to the artist—though it has to mean something to them too.  Someone had to have looked at piece and gone 'this is what I want hung in the gallery, or what I want to pay for, or what is worth saving'.  Sometimes that person's the artist, but often it's someone else entirely."

The corners of Tony's mouth twitched as soup and breadsticks arrived. "I have an art collection, you know."

Steve picked up the spoon he identified as the soup spoon, his eyebrows rising, "Really?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "I hear it's quite extensive and expensive."

"You hear?"  Steve grinned very slightly, "You haven't seen it?"

"Well, it's never been displayed in its entirety, and it's Pepper's baby," Tony said. "I mean, I think I've okayed all the purchases but—I know she had it shipped out from the East Coast."

"Is it currently displayed?  What sort of pieces does it have in it?"

"Not yet," Tony said, making the split second decision that it would be. Pepper would either hug him or punch him. "The space isn't finished—or all that far along yet." He frowned because the napkins were cotton and dark red and he wanted something to draw on, ideas about angles and light already in his head. Windows, he decided, looking at Steve. There were going to be all the windows the art could handle. "And um," he tried to get back on track, remembering the second part of the question. "Lots of stuff. I sortta like a wide sampling but, a lot of it is more modern."

"Well, if it’s been out on the East Coast, maybe that's why I haven't found anything by the modern artists that I've connected with," Steve said with another smile before taking a bite of his soup.

Tony stared at him, expression too open before he shook his head. "Clearly. You just have to find the right piece of it."

Steve's brain derailed at Tony's expression before he shook his head and brought himself back into focus, "I find that's true of a lot of things."

Tony focused down on the soup, not watching the way Steve moved or the steady way he ate. "Well, I'm sure I have something that would call to you," he said and didn't wince. "Personally, I like the more futuristic things. It's better to look forward than be trapped in the past."

"I don't know.  I mean, yes, look to the future, and don't be trapped in the past, but the past influences the present, and by extension the future," Steve pointed out.

"Sure," Tony huffed. "Sure it does. But that doesn't mean it's the most important. It's over. The future's not."

"Sometimes people aren't quite ready to let go of what they lost in the past, though," Steve argued.  "It doesn't mean they're necessarily trapped, just that they aren't ready to release it, even if it is set in stone."

Tony's nostrils flared slightly. "If that's what they need to tell themselves," he said, tone cutting. "The past is over, it doesn't matter, it's a done deal and I can't—" he broke off abruptly. "I'd rather look to the future is all."

Steve watched him quietly for a moment, taking in the way the muscles played under the skin of his face before the blond nodded, "I can understand that."

The line of Tony's mouth compressed. "Can you?"

"Maybe not why for you specifically, but I can see why people would rather look to the future," Steve amended.

Setting his spoon down carefully, Tony looked away, fingers twitching to flip his sunglasses down over his eyes again. "At least it's a place we don't know," he said. "It could be nicer."

"It's a place we can change," Steve agreed, still watching Tony carefully as he set his own spoon down.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Are you humoring me?" he demanded.

Steve shook his head, "No.  I don't humor people, as a general rule.  I've got my own set of things in the past I'd rather leave there, and, well it's nice to think there's something further out that I can change."

Tony's expression softened. "I'd ask, but I'm pretty sure I don't want you to do the same to me."

That earned a wry smile, "Not sure I'd answer at this point, anyhow."  He cleared his throat and sat back a little from where he hadn't consciously realized he was leaning toward Tony, "What, um, what about you?  What do you do with yourself?"

"I," he hesitated. "I don't know, really. It's been months since I got here and everything is still... settling. Mostly I avoid the meetings I should be going to and spend a lot of time at the studio fixing their machines which have a truly astonishing rate of breaking down, and just... watching I guess."

"You fix the machines at the studio?"  Steve blinked, "I gotta admit I didn't expect that."

Tony laughed. "They didn't either. I was supposed to be there for a meeting with the crazy director and they were whining about how their lights kept breaking down and it just sort of happened. And then, kept happening. I honestly think they're sabotaging things just to be irritating."

That earned a laugh from Steve and he shook his head, "Maybe they just like having you around."

Tony blinked, biting the inside of his lip to say no one did. "Maybe," he allowed. "It's a way to pass the time, and I admit I enjoy it more than I thought I would."

"You're good with things like that, then?" Steve asked, having caught a flicker of something he couldn't quite identify in Tony's eyes.

"I have two master's in engineering I would hope so," Tony said.

"Two—" Steve stared at him, "How old are you again?"

Tony's grin was too sharp. "You should know better than to ask someone their age. Besides, I started young."

"I gotta admit, I'm impressed," Steve said, seeing the edge to Tony's smile, but responding honestly.

Tony's eyes flickered over his face as the next course arrived. "Really?"

Steve nodded, meeting Tony's eyes again, "Really.  That's what, a four year degree and then two further degrees, if I have the numbers right?"

"Well, I didn't do it in four years," Tony said, fingers running over his fork. "But yeah."

Steve picked up his fork, twirling it in his fingers for a brief moment, "How long did it take you?"

"I started when I was fourteen," he said after a beat instead of directly answering.

"That must have been an experience," Steve said, briefly thinking of his own time when entering high school, to say nothing of what it might have been to enter college with people four years and more his elder.

Tony laughed. "Yeah. Yeah it was... I didn't really do sports the first few years, you know? Or, ever, actually."

Steve grinned, "I never did sports either, admittedly.  Unless you count back alley fights."

"You," Tony blinked. "Okay, first of all," he said and held his hands up to mirror the breadth of Steve's shoulders. "How did you not? Secondly, what's a cop doing getting into alley fights?"

"I wasn't always built like this," Steve replied, looking self-conscious.  "And I didn't always plan on being a cop either."

"Still, sort of thought the moral fiber thing was a given," Tony said, almost completely ignoring the food in front of him. "And—wait. This is why you know how to fight dirty, don't you? Or at least smaller?"

"I don't like bullies, that doesn't mean that I wanted to work for the police," Steve replied, dodging the questions for a moment.  He nodded once, "Yeah, and it's not dirty.  It's mostly just defensive measures to give you time to either get away or stall the other person enough for back up to get there."

"Assuming back up is going to be coming," Tony said, finally poking at the dish in front of him, considering the fish with furrowed brows.

"Well, that's what the escape bit is for," Steve said, using the side of his fork to section off a bite of the fish.  "Do you really think you wouldn't have back up willing to help you out?"

"The possibility always exists," Tony said, eyelashes shadowing his cheek as he looked down for a moment. "Why'd you join the cops then? If it wasn't always your plan?"

"Your dad actually," Steve said, glancing at Tony and looking quickly away.

"You, you're joking," Tony managed, eyes wide and voice hollowed out.

He shook his head, "No, it was actually his suggestion."

"I hadn't realized you'd met enough for him to make such a suggestion," Tony said, not even noticing as his plate was removed and another one put there.

"I only met him the once.  It was just, I was just looking for something to do.  Somewhere to be angry without, without getting myself killed," Steve said, quietly.  "It was a hell of a year.  I was up near the studio and he handed me a movie ticket to get me out of the rain and suggested the police force.  I had a black eye and a split lip I'm sure—that was pretty typical at that point—and arms and legs that just didn't fit.  Nothing fit then."

Tony's knuckles had gone white around the water glass. "How kind of him," he said. "You know what he did, right? It's pretty ironic, him pointing anyone to the police force."

Steve offered a wry smile, "Oh I know now.  I didn't then, but yeah, it's pretty damn ironic.  Looking back I'm pretty sure he meant it as a joke....or a detriment to the force.  Like I said, I wasn't really good material."

"But you've proved him wrong," Tony said, almost viciously.

Steve let his gaze sweep over the tension in Tony's frame and the tone the other had been using ever since Howard had first been mentioned, "Yeah, yeah I have.  Proved a lot of people wrong, actually."

"Good," Tony said, trying to force himself to relax. "More people should be proven wrong and realize they aren't always right. Except me of course, because I _am_ always right."

"Always?"  Steve offered him a hint of a grin again.

Tony nodded, desperately trying to get his equilibrium back. "Always."

"Do you like what you're doing now?  Running a movie studio I mean," Steve asked, it wasn't quite a full topic shift but he hoped it would be enough.

"Yeah," Tony said, trying to breathe normally and relax back into his sprawl. One hand fiddled with his shades, still buried in his thick hair before he dropped it back to the table, swirling pasta around his fork. "Never really thought I would. Thought I'd take a more hands off approach like—but I'm not. And it's fun. It's nice too, everyone working together and yelling at each other because they want to make the best thing they can."

"I haven't made much of a habit of going to the movies, but the ones I've seen, well, you all work magic."

Tony's smile looked sincere again. "Yeah. It is pretty amazing, what people can think of and put into effect."

"So, what's it like, actually being on the set while the movie's being made?" Steve asked, watching Tony and returning the smile with one of his own.

"Very loud," Tony said after a beat. "Lots of yelling, the actors, the directors. One girl kept crying between takes because the director was being an ass but then she'd be all bright smiles the next second. Costume changes are happening all around and a lot of people are moving because that light fixture just broke and this camera needs to be over there and the sets sometimes fall down," he laughed, shaking his head. "So, uh, if you like carefully controlled chaos?"

Steve laughed, "Don't experience enough controlled chaos to _really_ form an opinion."

Tony laughed. "Well, not always controlled."

Steve laughed, "Well, you wouldn't want it to be predictable in that regard.  It wouldn't really be chaos then, would it?"

"No," Tony agreed. "How about you? Do you like the police force?"

"Most of the time," Steve said.  "Other times I wonder what the hell I was thinking, joining it.  They're all a little mad, the cops.  And the gossip in the precinct is at least as bad as anywhere else.  We do some good, maybe not a lot, and don't bother mentioning the corruption, I'm aware of it, but we do some good."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Tony protested. "Besides, you're much better off than the prohibition agents."

Steve chuckled, "Based on what I hear those agents get paid?  I'm not all that surprised.  But yeah, we've got a pretty solid core and I'd trust at least a couple of them, even Summers."

"Even Summers?" Tony asked.

"One of the others.  We don't really get along," Steve shrugged, not sure he could articulate why.

"But you trust him anyway?" Tony asked, clearly surprised.

"He's an ass, and we disagree about a lot of things, but yeah, I'd trust him to have my back if something went wrong."

Tony glanced away, playing with his fork more than using it. "Yeah? That's nice."

"Or really damn naïve.  I'm never quite sure which," Steve said, watching Tony's reaction.

Tony's smile didn't look amused. "At least you know it's naïve."

Steve paused at that before nodding ever so slightly, not sure where he had mis-stepped and wanting to back up to avoid that look from Tony, "Hard not to.  Trusting someone I don't like might be a stupid idea, really."

"Or it could be smarter," Tony said after a beat.

Steve tipped his head slightly to one side, "How so?"

"Because you trust them with the bigger stuff," Tony said, stilted. "It's not about them liking you or you liking them, you trust them to get stuff done. And... it's not personal then."

Thinking about that for a moment, Steve nodded, "I can see how that makes sense.  And I guess that's true.  I wouldn't trust him with my apartment address, but I would with my life."

"Okay, it does sound a little messed up when you say it like that, honey," Tony shook his head.

Steve blinked at him for a moment and then shook his head, "Not how I meant, that is, there are things my co-workers don't need to know, no matter how much I trust them on the job."

"What have you got hiding in your apartment then?" Tony asked and his smile wasn't sincere yet but it was closer than the last one.

Steve grinned at that, "But that'd be telling."

"Well now I'm really curious," Tony said, leaning forward slightly.

"Not much, honestly.  Some furniture, a few books, a radio, and some of my sketchbooks," Steve said with a shrug.  "It's pretty sparse."

"Do you like it?" Tony asked.

Steve considered that question before he finally sighed, "Mostly.  Sometimes it's too, well, empty."

Tony opened his mouth and closed it again in desperate self-preservation before clearing his throat and looking away. "So not a lot of people in your life then?" He closed his eyes, clearly wishing that wasn't what had come out of his mouth either.

"I," Steve paused before shaking his head, "no, not a lot of people in my life."

"You seem like you should be surrounded by people," Tony said, nothing stopping his mouth. "Or have a cute little button of a girl or something, brightening your place up." And he really hoped there was some girl, sweet and with a big smile and they would be sickening together and his fingers gripped the fork too hard because he really hoped.

Steve blinked a couple of times before smiling faintly, though there was a hint of a bitter twist to his lips, "Cute little buttons have never much been my type."

"They... they haven't been? What, do you go for the vamps?" Tony asked and oh wasn't that image just worse?

Steve chuckled, "Smart mouths who don't take any guff."

Tony's hands wanted to shake. "And you're living here? Why aren't you dating anyone? You remember this is Hollywood, right? Where else are you possibly going to find such a collection of smart mouths?"

"There are a few other factors than just that," Steve said, offering Tony a smile and leaning forward slightly without realizing it.

Tony's shoulders shifted slightly but he was already sprawled more toward the table than away and he was drawn closer before he registered what he was doing too. "Like what?"

"Well, Jane would say I have a physical type, but I'm never quite sure how much to believe what she says," Steve answered.

"Well, we come in all those now too," Tony said. "I mean, Hollywood types and physical types." His heart did something funny at his slip up.

"I don't know, there aren't a lot of brunettes with caustic senses of humor that I've met."

Tony's eyes widened slightly and, shit, when had they gotten this close? Even with the whole table between them it felt too close. "I bet I could name you five in my studio alone."

Steve caught the widening of Tony's eyes and realized what he'd said, withdrawing slightly, "Five, huh?"

"At least," Tony said, swallowing hard. "Well, okay, most of them will have probably bleached their hair in the time it would take me but—"

"Well, it's not like I end up in the studio area much, anyhow."

"You could, if you wanted," Tony said. His eyes darted away. "So caustic and brunette. Anything else I should look out for?"

"I don't know, someone I can actually talk to, spend time with and enjoy it," Steve paused.

"Well that I couldn't figure out until I put you together."

Steve's lips twitched upward at that, "No, that's true.  I really don't have that many things I look for that can be told without talking to a person."

Tony made a grumpy noise. "You're just trying to make this difficult!"

Steve offered him a grin, "Was I supposed to be making it easy?"

Huffing, Tony mock scowled at him. "It would probably behoove both of us."

"If I wanted you to set me up with people, yeah it would," Steve agreed.

"Don't you?" Tony asked, trying to look surprised.

Steve shrugged, "I like to think I can handle getting myself a date."

"You said you're lonely," Tony said. "And that you can't find people. I am," and he smirked because otherwise he was going to reach across the table and touch, or cry. "Very good at getting people."

Steve swallowed very slightly and tried to turn part of his attention back to the food in front of him, "I don't doubt it.  I'm busy though, it's not always good for relationships."

"You're always going to be busy," Tony said, laughing.

Steve grinned, sheepishly, "So not getting away with that excuse, then?"

"Hell no," Tony scoffed. "It's the worst one in the book. At least have some hidden heart break or horrible chest disfigurement you're too scared to show anyone."

"You mean like a missing person as the last long-term relationship I had?" Steve said, feeling something twist in his chest, but he managed to sound almost casual about it.

"Ah," Tony said, leaning back slightly and one hand splaying unconsciously on his chest. "Alright, that's fair. But still you can't use that forever."

"No, I can't.  It's been a few years, you'd think I'd been coping with it."

Tony's teeth clenched and his smile flagged. "I'm sorry."

Steve shook his head, pulling himself out of that topic, "No, no I'm sorry.  New topic."

"But," Tony started and shook his head. "Actually, no, if I keep talking I'll say something awful." He looked relieved when the waiter reappeared, taking the last dish away. "Dessert," he said abruptly. "The menu for that please."

"You've done pretty well so far on not saying anything awful," Steve pointed out.

"Ugh," Tony managed, making a face. "It's only a matter of time. I mean, it gets worse when there are things like actual human emotions involved. The chances go up."

Steve offered him a smile at that, "I think that's true of most people."

Tony's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do you give everyone this much benefit of the doubt?"

"Not everyone," Steve shook his head.

"Is this because you secretly think I'm a good person?" Tony asked, narrowing his eyes.

"This is because you still haven't proven that you aren't," he corrected.

"I'll have to think of something," Tony said as the dessert menus appeared, the waiter glancing between them and retreating again.

Steve offered him a faint grin and another shake of his head, "You really don't have to."

"Really? Because apparently I need to do something to knock your illusions out of your head," Tony said, smile odd.

"Or we could run into each other again and you still won't manage to prove me wrong," Steve said.

"No, if you keep thinking that, your disappointment is only going to be so much worse when you figure it out."

Steve offered Tony a long look, but finally shrugged, "If you say so. I still think you're selling yourself short."

"Better that than to disappoint high expectations," Tony said and closed his eyes again.

Sighing, Steve glanced away, his eyes catching on a clock.  He paused, blinking at the time for a moment, speaking before he thought through how much of a shift it was, "Isn't there a party at seven?"

"Yes," Tony said, motioning the waiter back, who had remained remarkably silent all night and pointed to the chocolate cake before waving them away again.

"One thrown by Charles Xavier?  You're going to be late."

"Of course I'm going to be late, that's part of the point," Tony laughed, shaking his head.

Steve offered him a confused smile at that, "Alright, you've lost me."

"Haven't you heard of being fashionably late?" Tony asked.

"I'd thought it was a myth."

"Alright, well first of all it's not," Tony said, holding up one hand. "Secondly, you never want to get to one of Xavier's parties until the booze has well circulated the premises."

Steve's eyebrows rose slightly at that, "Really then.  The booze huh?"

Tony blinked and seemed to realize what he said before groaning. "That's not your job. Besides, I'm pretty sure his cellar could last for a hundred years and that's accounting for how much he drinks."

"We're talking about the same Charles Xavier, right?  The one who runs that school not far from the soup kitchen?"  Steve asked.

"Oh no," Tony groaned. "You've been taken in by him. He's fooled you completely."

Steve laughed, "Alright, then, enlighten me.  What've I missed about him?"

"Well, first of all," Tony said, propping his arm up on the table. "He's the most manipulative, conniving bastard out there."

"Is that all?"  Steve asked, trying to hide a smile, "You're not sure you're overreacting?"

"No, I'm certainly not," Tony said, sounding offended. "You just haven't actually ever met the man. He drinks like a fish, he," and Tony trailed off because while drinking alcohol wasn't technically illegal, sleeping with a male German anarchist certainly was.

Steve's eyebrows rose, "He?"

"All but abducts children," Tony said.

That earned a quiet laugh, "I had heard that, actually."

"Really?" Tony asked, drawing the word out and barely resisting the urge to lean forward again.

"Hank mentioned it yesterday.  Something about a 'drive-by adoption'."

"Hank," Tony frowned and then his eyes widened. "Surely not gangly, trip over everything by breathing Hank McCoy?"

"Well, he fortunately doesn't trip over everything anymore since he spends his time around sharp objects, but yeah that's him," Steve nodded.

"Sharp objects?" Tony asked, quirking his brow.

Steve grinned in response, "He's our medical examiner, now."

"He works for the cops?" Tony barely managed not to yelp.

"Is that so surprising?"

"Uh," Tony managed. "Yes, yes it rather is. He was raised by Charles Xavier. He must have an innate core of goodness no one suspected."

"You really don't like Xavier then?"

"Oh, I love the man completely," Tony said, waving a hand lazily through the air.

Steve blinked twice, "Alright, you've lost me again."

"Just because I adore him doesn't mean he's not a drinking, child abducting, manipulative and horrible bastard," Tony said with a lazy smile. "See, if that's the sort of people I like, what must that say about me?"

Steve shrugged, "That you've got a hell of a lot of stories to tell.  Stop trying to get me to think worse of you."

The lines around Tony's eyes pinched. "Do you even know when I started drinking, or what people like me get up to?"

"No to the first, and I can guess to the second," Steve answered, sighing and leaning back in his chair.

"It was before I entered college and—wait, really?"

"Depends on what you mean by 'people like you', but I can hazard a few guesses based on where we've run into each other."

"Don't—don't hedge," Tony said, searching Steve's face. "It doesn't suit you."

Steve considered for a long moment before leaning forward again and resting his forearms on the table, "You inherited more than the movie studio and the family fortune from Howard Stark.  You've also taken over the less than legal side of his business, you go to underground fights.  Tony, for god's sake I'm not blind or stupid."

Tony's jaw dropped and he was still staring at Steve in muted shock when chocolate cake was deposited quickly in front of them. "Then why," he started and had to start over. "Then why are you convinced I'm a decent person? Why do you keep letting me drag you around? Shouldn't you be trying to arrest me if that's your suspicion?"

Steve picked up a dessert fork pointing at Tony with it for a moment, "Okay, to start with, it's pointless to bother arresting on suspicion without actual evidence.  That's really neither here nor there though.  I'm convinced you're a decent person because you hired Thor Odinson after his father cast him out, and my guess is that it was at a massive amount of personal risk.  And, well, I guess we can call it a gut feeling."

"He only cast him out because they're _gangsters too_ ," Tony hissed and felt sure he'd spoken too much. "It's not very noble."

"So it's not going to win any prizes for goodness of heart, but it’s enough reason for me to be interested in seeing you again.  Hell, do you know how much crap I got from my partner after we ran into each other the first time?"

"No," Tony said weakly, completely ignoring the cake.

"A lot.  Because we knew what you'd inherited and it didn't really matter when it came to a smart-mouthed, sharp-witted brunet in a nice suit."

Tony stared at him, not moving. "Don't," he managed finally.

Steve snapped his mouth shut and leaned back again, pausing for a long moment before removing the napkin from his lap and placing it on the table, "This was not a good idea."

"No," Tony agreed weakly. "But you don't have to go."

"You're sure?" Steve asked.  "Because so far my record tonight hasn't been good with not saying what I'm thinking."

"At least finish the cake and let me take you home," Tony said.

Steve hesitated for another moment and then nodded, "Alright."

Tony nodded, focusing on the cake in front of him with determination because if he had thought the urge to touch before was bad, it was a hundred times worse now, like his fingers were itching and the only balm was Steve's skin.

Steve dropped his gaze to the dessert, mentally cursing how much he had given up in the space of one conversation.  It was intoxicating being around Tony and he felt as though any semblance of control he had was spiraling out of his hands.

So engrossed with not focusing on Steve, Tony didn't even notice the waiter reappear with the bill, leaving it on the table and retreating again. Someone must have warned the poor man not to try and engage Tony.

Steve glanced up, watching the waiter leave again and setting his fork down as he finished the last bite of cake and turned back to Tony, "Thank you for dinner."

"Yeah," Tony said, looking up and noticing the bill before dragging it toward himself so Steve wouldn't even be remotely tempted to look. "Of course, I mean, what else do I have money to spend on?"

Offering him a ghost of a smile, Steve shrugged, "I would guess a few things."

"Yeah?" Tony asked and his voice sounded strained.

"I can guess a lot of things, but I've already opened my mouth and put my foot in it enough tonight," Steve replied, looking away again.

"But now I'm curious," Tony whined, trying to sound as immature as people accused him of being. Anything really to distract him from thinking about dragging Steve with him and finding out exactly how attracted he was to callous brunettes.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle at that, discarding the first thing that came to mind as a slippery slope, "Well, you're going to have to live with that, then." Tony pulled a face, dangerously close to pouting. Steve glanced away from Tony at that, his mouth going dry.

"I'll take you home then," Tony said, checking his watch.

"I wouldn't want to make you any later.  I can make my own way, if you need to be going," Steve said, seeing the glance at the watch, and swallowing at the idea of Tony taking him home in a less innocent sense.

"No," Tony said. "It's fine. Just making sure Happy will be here."

"If you're sure."  Steve paused, clearing his throat, "Thank you."

"Yeah, well, I sort of kidnapped you and fed you, might as well make it a package deal," Tony said, making the mistake of looking back up at him.

Steve felt color rise to his cheeks at Tony's words and eyes, though he tried to suppress the blush, "Still.  Thanks.  Dinner was, was great."

"It's a bit better than canned soup then?" Tony asked, smile wry.

Steve snorted, grinning lopsidedly, "Much better than canned soup."

"See? This was a much smarter plan."

"Well, I don't know about _much_ , but smarter, sure."

"Excuse you?" Tony asked, offended as he stood up. "It was _much_ smarter."

Steve laughed lightly as he rose as well, "You're not going to just let it be 'smarter' are you?"

"No! It was brilliant, almost genius!"

"I'm surprised you don't find it to be genius, rather than almost," Steve said with a grin.

Tony's eyes flickered. "Well, genius is the top of the level you know. Smart is just being above the masses."

Steve caught the look and considered his next words, pretty damn sure they had stepped beyond talking about ideas, "What would make it genius, then?"

"Probably getting you a proper suit before dragging you to eat," Tony said without thinking about it.

Steve nearly tripped over his own feet at that thought, "That I probably would have protested more."

"Why?" Tony looked over at him, flipping the shades back down with overwhelming relief as they stepped outside. "You'd look—"

"Like I'd never worn a suit that nice before, probably," Steve finished, feeling caught between relief that he couldn't see Tony's eyes anymore and regret for exactly the same reason.

"You'd get used to it," Tony said. "They're actually designed to be comfortable."

"I'd get used to it in the space of a dinner?"

"Well," Tony paused. "Probably. Maybe not. Depends on how much you'd resist the idea, which, really, shouldn't be much at all because—the world wouldn't know what hit it."

"I wouldn't have much other reason to wear it," Steve reminded.  "It's not like I'm dining at places like this regularly."

"Aren't there other places though?" Tony asked. "A good suit, it's versatile, for places like this and going dancing and meetings and—"

Happy pulled up in front of them then and Steve paused, looking over the Rolls with an almost wary eye.  Happy stepped out of the car to open the back door, "Are you set, sir?"

"Yes," Tony said. "Come on, Steve."

Steve hesitated for another moment before following Tony to the car, "I'm pretty sure my place is out of your way."

"It's fine," Tony said, waving his hand. "Just get in."

Steve slid into the backseat, glancing at Happy who smiled at him, closing the door once Tony was in and getting behind the wheel again.

"Not that I know where you live or anything," Tony said after a beat.

Offering him a faint smile, Steve nodded, leaning forward and giving Happy an address that was in one of the lower-rent districts.

Tony stared at him. "Wait, you were going to just walk all that way?"

"There's a bus that goes most of the way," Steve answered, settling back against the seat.

"A bus," Tony repeated, like he had never heard the word before.

Steve nodded, "You know, public transportation?"

"I know what it is," Tony protested. "In theory I mean."

Steve smiled, "Well, it's my usual route home."

"Good god, every day?" Tony asked, looking over and deeply regretting how close they were, and how easy it would be to tell Happy to drive them somewhere else, somewhere secluded and get a hotel and not ever go to Charles' party....

"Morning and evening," Steve agreed, glancing at Tony and swallowing, resisting the urge to lean either toward the other man or away from him.

"They really don't pay you much, do they?" Tony asked, looking sideways at him.

"I get paid enough," Steve answered, shrugging.  "Sometimes I just overestimate it a bit."

"Overestimate?" Tony asked.

"Use more of it earlier than I meant to.  Which usually means I end up with canned soup by the end of the pay check."

"Really?" Tony considered him. "You, irresponsible?" He wondered what it might possibly feel like to not have enough money.

"Sometimes," Steve admitted.  "It's nice to treat myself to something different once in a while.  It just means remembering that it'll be tight later."

Tony looked at where Steve was still holding several cans of soup. "What did you treat yourself to this month?"

"A new coat," Steve answered simply.

"Jesus Christ," Tony said, staring at him as the car rolled to a smooth stop.

"You don't have to sound so horrified," Steve said, reaching for the door handle.

"But," Tony said and shook his head, one hand reaching out before he could stop it, running the tips of his fingers over Steve's cheeks. "Alright. I'll see you around."

Steve's blue eyes widened at that touch and it took a force of will to open the car door and step out, leaning down to offer Tony a smile, "Take care of yourself."

"I'm surprisingly good at that," Tony said, scooting over to where Steve had been sitting.

Pausing for another moment, Steve thanked him again and closed the door.  He retreated quickly into his building and up to his apartment, leaning against the door and trying to figure out what the hell he had been doing.

Happy looked at his boss in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the curb, "Who was that, sir?"

"A cop..." Tony said without thinking and frowned. He had thrown around the word friend not even hours ago like they weren't but dinner had proved otherwise, hadn't it? "Fuck," he breathed, still pressed against the window.

"Are you still going to Mr. Xavier's tonight, sir?"  Happy asked, drawing his eyes back to the road before glancing in the mirror again and watching Tony.

"Yes, of course, how could I miss it?" Tony asked, wanting to turn around and chase Steve and the level of stupid that was almost took his breath away. And he had a history of truly stupid decisions. Happy nodded very slightly, reminding himself to mention this to Miss Potts and Rhodey as he navigated the Rolls through the streets toward Xavier's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deepest apologies for the length of time between updates. Life keeps catching up to us and making it difficult to get things written. So here's an extra-long chapter, heavy on the Tony, for all of you wonderful readers. Hope you enjoyed!


	11. Scarlet Poppy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fantastic Extravagance

Tony swept into the room, shades still covering his eyes and looking murderous. Thor had been waiting for him outside the door, occasionally looking at where Loki and Odin stood in the far corner and falling in behind Tony when he finally arrived, beyond fashionably late. The first socialite that simpered up to Tony promptly found her dress and hair torn apart and flounced off in an annoyed and hurt huff.

There was a breath of laughter from behind Tony, Charles Xavier, host of the evening, standing there and leaning heavily on an expensive cane, "I've been waiting for someone to say that to her all evening."

"Please," Tony waved a hand. "You are quite capable of tearing them apart yourself—why, Mary, dear, whoever let you out of the house in that necklace should be shot for poor judgement or their horribly habit of lying."

Charles' lips curled up and he offered Tony a drink from a passing tray, "Yes but I'm supposed to be playing the courteous host tonight, remember?"

"You and that word don't even talk, Charles, you aren't on speaking terms," Tony said, accepting the glass and holding it loosely in his hands for a moment.

Charles picked up a glass for himself, raising it slightly to Tony, his smile turning sharp, "Courteous? I'll have you know that there are people who think I’m the height of courtesy."

"Only when they're drunk on your alcohol, Charles," Raven said, appearing at his side.

"Or who aren't listening," Tony added. "Raven," he inclined his head slightly in greeting, sunglasses still firmly on his nose.

She offered him a smile, "Hello, Tony. You're late."

"Oh dear," he said, pretending to check a watch he was not wearing. "Am I?"

"Dreadfully," Charles drawled. "And as this is really the only place to be seen tonight I'm curious as to what drew you away."

"My own good fortunes," Tony said, wryly and like he meant the exact opposite.

Charles snorted, "I'm sure."

"Besides," Tony spread his hands out, full glass still dangling from one. "One must be fashionable."

"Fashionable is an hour late at most," Charles pointed out. "The party started at seven."

"Technicalities," Tony said, waving his hand around.

"So I have to ask," Raven said, sipping at her drink, "what possible 'good fortune' could keep you away from sniping at the socialites to your heart's content so long?"

"Dinner," he said after a beat.

"Must have been quite the dinner," Charles remarked, intrigued.

"Wasn't that special," Tony replied, defensively. "It was just a dinner out."

"Of course," Charles said. "Because just dinners always make you more than an hour late."

"You missed Hank's entrance," Raven said with a grin.

"Oh, now you know how to make me sad," Tony sighed. "Did he trip over his own feet at all?"

"Not yet," Raven admitted. "I think that may be Emma's influence."

"Raven, be nice," Charles admonished, earning a derisive laugh from her.

"You are not one to talk."

"Please," Tony waved his hand again. "Nice has not ever been any of our life goals."

"If it ever was we failed horribly right out of the gate," Raven said, nodding.

"Say, where is Hank," Tony asked, craning his neck and looking around. "And you said he brought a _date_?"

"Believe it or not," Charles said.

Raven waved a hand in the direction she'd last seen Hank, "He was over there. And no, he didn't bring a date. She technically brought him."

"Okay, but there is Hank and date in the same sentence," Tony said. "That's new."

"She's here because she could get him into a suit," Raven said, not even trying to hide her grin.

"So not terribly romantic?" Tony asked with a grin.

That earned an inelegant snort from Raven, "Not at all. Pretty sure they're not anywhere close to dating either."

"Aw," Tony grinned. "Is she pretty at least?"

"Oh she's gorgeous," Raven said. "Knows how to dress too."

"If you like white outside of weddings," Charles sniped.

"White is very fashionable," Tony said. "To some people I suppose. I believe the Chinese wear it to funerals though, so wherever you travel I'm sure it will be functional for all social occasions."

Charles huffed at that, "Yes, but for an evening gala?"

"I have seriously considered white evening gowns," Raven said.

"Yet you always seem to choose blue."

"People go with what suits them," Thor said from behind Tony's shoulder, where he had only half been listening, more focused on Loki across the room.

"You are a disgrace to this conversation," Tony informed him.

Charles' lips curved upward at that and he shook his head, "No, no he has a point. It's just that what suits people isn't always what society might condone."

Raven looked Thor over for a long moment, "It's a lovely shade of green you've got for a tie there. Sets off your blond hair really well."

"Not a shade you often see in the evenings around here, though," Charles said, almost as an aside to Raven.

Thor shrugged. "I would hate to be considered common," he said, Tony's attention already drifting as he tore down another socialite who had the misfortune of coming close. "After all, is that not the worst crime in a place like this?"

"And here I thought it was eccentricity," Charles drawled.

Raven shook her head, "No, you just wish that, Charles."

Thor's smile was tight. "Everyone comes to your parties," he said. "Eccentricity is what people crave, not what they reject."

"Gossip is what people crave," Charles corrected. "Well, and the ability to say they know people who know people."

"Exactly, and eccentrics provide the best gossip," Thor said.

"Yes, but not too eccentric or the gossip's likely to turn against you," Charles said, sipping at his glass of champagne. "There are some things society won't forgive no matter how good the gossip."

"How can I get into that category?" Tony asked, paying attention again.

Raven considered answering that and Charles' lips curved upward as he spoke instead, "I'm not sure you could, Tony. Though scandalously illegal acts might do it."

"No, I just want them to leave me alone, not lynch me."

Charles laughed, "Then I am afraid you're out of luck there."

"Damn," Tony said, Thor's expression tight.

"I suppose I ought to pull myself away and play host," Charles said, grimacing slightly.

"Oh please," Tony waved a hand. "Like you have goddamn ever."

That earned a laugh from Raven, "He's got a point, Charles."

Charles shook his head, smiling, "I'm sure there was a time I actually played host. I'm not sure it was within the last fifteen years, but I'm sure there was a time."

"Before I was born, in other words," Tony said. "Say, is that Hank finally making his way over?"

Raven looked in the direction Tony indicated and grinned, "Yes it is. Emma, I'm so glad you got him in a suit."

"It was a shockingly easy endeavor," Emma said. "I just had to stare at him. You made me believe it would be much harder."

"That's because for me it is," Raven said. "I usually have to resort to verbal threats of some sort."

"Her stare is scarier than your verbal threats," Hank said, shoulders stiff and Tony's eyes lightened when he laid them upon Emma.

Raven grinned, "I shall have to keep that in mind."

"You should be honing those threats more, then, Raven," Charles said, setting his empty glass on a passing tray.

"They are apparently lackluster," Tony said.

"Do I get a say in the effectiveness?" Hank asked.

"You just said they weren't as effective as her stare, you already contributed," Raven said, firmly.

"I said scarier," Hank said. "I'm not sure you need to be all that more effective."

Raven laughed, "Hank, you flatter me."

"This is why you shouldn't let women into your life," Tony said and Thor and Hank both stared at him.

Charles' brows arched at that, "And what would you suggest instead, Tony?"

"I'm actually more curious what his very efficient secretary would say about that," Raven admitted.

"That uh is my business life," Tony said. "Besides, I'd rather no one be able to threaten me into a suit."

"Really? You don't want someone that concerned about you?" Raven asked, aiming for innocence and ending up somewhere far closer to sly teasing.

"Psh," Tony said. "No, I really don’t."

"Sounds lonely," Raven said after a moment.

"Sounds peaceful," Charles cut in, hand tensing on the top of his cane.

"Oh, I quite prefer it," Tony said, and Thor stared at his back, not even contradicting him.

"It has been a while since I've seen you, Stark," Hank remarked.

"Indeed," Tony said. "I've heard such interesting things. You look all grown up and working with the cops."

Charles blinked once, "You know, I'm sure that isn't common knowledge. Who on earth have you been talking to?"

"Oh, uh," Tony blinked, Hanks expression clouding for a moment.

"Would that be Rogers again?" Thor asked, sounding innocent.

Raven's eyebrows rose and she looked at Emma, hoping the other woman would have an answer, "Rogers?"

"Rogers gave you the time of day?" Emma asked. "How did you manage that?"

"What does that mean?" Tony asked, bristling.

"You're just... not the type he usually spends time with... or even speaks to," Hank said.

"Which one is Rogers?" Raven asked, "Tall blond Adonis?"

"You could say that," Emma purred.

"I would rather not say that, especially about our coworker," Hank said.

"He seemed nice. Good." Raven turned her attention to Tony, "I suddenly understand why they're asking."

"I don't like any of you," Tony said, the dinner with Steve too clear in his mind.

"They actually got along quite well," Thor said.

"Are you joking?" Tony stared at him. "At the kitchen? That ended in a fight! It always ends in a fight!"

"Kitchen?" Charles cut in. "You mean to tell me that those rumors were true? I hadn't put any stock in them."

Raven waved Charles off, "'Always?' How many times have you seen him?"

"What? He roped me into it," Tony said, pointing to Thor and ignoring Raven.

"Jane is doing good work," Thor said, totally serious. "She and the others are caring for those that most need it and I am happy to help. You were less happy but that hardly detracts from the fact you did it."

Charles blinked for a long moment at Thor, having moved in the same high society circles as Thor's parents for years, "Good work. Yes, yes they are. I admit to being surprised that either of you were there. So this is where you met this...Rogers?"

Thor shrugged and Tony rubbed the tip of his nose. "No."

"No?" Hank repeated. "Oh. Wait. Logan mentioned running into you one night while they were patrolling the studio."

"You and that creepy good memory," Tony said, suddenly hyper aware that running into him was a topic of police discussion.

Charles offered Tony a piercing glance at that, considering him for a long moment, "So twice then." His lips curled into an easy smile, "You know, I am just imagining you in a soup kitchen. It's quite the image."

"Yes yes I'm sure it's hilarious in your head. It was neither glamorous nor as entertaining as you're imagining," Tony said and Thor boomed out a laugh, always too loud for these sorts of parties.

"It was actually that entertaining," he said when Tony gave him a sour look even with the shades still on.

"Oh how I wish I could have borne witness to that," Charles drawled, shifting his weight and managing not to wince more than a tightening around his eyes and a convulsive clench of his hand on the top of his cane before he settled back in the stance he had already been in.

"No you don't," Tony said. "You really don't. It was not very exciting."

"To watch you serving food to the less fortunate? Exciting is not the word I would use, amusing though," Charles said with a laugh.

"It wasn't," Tony protested again. "Just—okay so I got roped into it one time—"

"More than one time," Thor said calmly.

"But that doesn't mean it's so—what?"

"You've been altruistic more than once?" Charles looked like he couldn't quite believe that.

"It makes a good photo op," Tony sniffed.

"Right, of course," Charles nodded.

Raven looked Tony over for a long moment, "So you've done it more than once?"

Tony shrugged, looking away. "Ah," he said suddenly. "I see Pepper. Have a good party Charles, Hank, we should catch up again later as you seem to have grown out of that stubborn awkward tripping-over-everything and stammering phase which makes you much more interesting then when I was here last but that can be later." And just as suddenly he was gone, Thor blinking after him before shrugging at the others and following Tony.

On the other side of the room, Pepper politely broke off her conversation as Tony approached her and met him part way with a slightly relieved smile, "I'm so glad to see you."

"You are?" Tony asked, taking one of her hands. "Because that's rare." He dropped it before doing anything so silly as kissing the back of it.

"A secretary in an evening gown at a party her boss is the expected invitee too. Yes, I'm very glad to see you," Pepper answered.

"Aw, have you been getting questions about me, Miss Potts?" Tony asked. "We should dance. Do you want to dance?"

"No, they would never be so direct as to ask questions." She paused for a moment and then nodded, "I would like to dance. Though they'll talk more."

"Doesn't matter," Tony said, taking her hand and leaving Thor behind on the edge of the floor before leading Pepper into the middle. "They can talk all they want."

"What kept you so long?" She asked, stepping easily through the dance.

"Nothing important," he said. "Say, do I still have that art collection?"

"The one I had shipped out here, you mean?" Pepper nodded, "Yes, it's in storage. Why?"

"I was thinking about displaying it," Tony said. "Call it a whim. I know I have mostly modernist, but there are some more, old fashioned ones aren't there?"

"Some, yes," Pepper nodded. "How much did you want displayed?"

"I don't know," Tony said, half watching the other dancers. "The older stuff, moving forward. Changing role of art or whatever title sounds pretentious enough."

"How long do you want it displayed?"

"I don't know," Tony shrugged. "Forever? A month?"

"I'll see what I can do. I can find a temporary place without too much trouble, but any longer than a few weeks or a month would require a new venue entirely," Pepper said, tipping her chin and offering a smile to another couple as they passed them on the floor.

"This is a very slow dance," Tony said, moving gracefully but mechanically. "Haven't they heard of the invention of Jazz yet?"

"They probably think it's too modern."

"Yes, and we can't have that," Tony said, hands low on her back as he led her through a spin.

She laughed, "Well of course not. So, I'll start looking for a temporary gallery for at least some of the art on Monday."

"Yes, miss Potts, that would be lovely," Tony said, as Thor circled the edge of the dancefloor, watching Tony more than Loki through sheer force of will.

Across the room, having stayed at Frigga’s side for the evening, Loki watched Thor’s progress along the edge of the floor. The green tie around Thor’s throat left him conflicted as to whether he would like to rip it off of his neck or strangle him with it. The green suited Thor and, more than that, it was _Loki’s_ color. He knew the truth in what he had told Fandral—any green ties Thor owned had been gifts from Loki himself and to see one tonight of all nights, after not seeing Thor in days, was enough to drive him to distraction. Yanking his attention away from Thor yet again, Loki hummed and nodded in response to a comment from Frigga that had little intent beyond drawing his focus as the host of the evening approached them.

Frigga extended her hand to Charles who took it and bent over to place a light kiss to the back of it, “Frigga, it is ever a pleasure to see you. And to have both of your sons in the same room is a delight as well.”

Her lips curved into a small smile that fell short of the genuine pleased smiles that Loki knew lit her eyes, “It truly is, though you know as well as I that they've been nigh inseparable for years.”

That garnered a chuckle from Charles as he shifted his grip on his cane, whitened knuckles tight around the head of it, “I do indeed.”

“Yes, close as two brothers ever could wish,” Loki said, his green eyes traveling over Charles, noting the faint sheen on his forehead and the way he kept his weight carefully on his left leg and the cane. There was little question that he was straining himself to still be on his feet even as early in the evening as it was.

Charles waved his free hand airily, “You always were, so does that mean Thor has told you of his sudden interest in the merits of soup kitchens?”

Loki’s gaze sought Thor out across the room again in surprise, as though to confirm what Charles had just said, "No, he failed to mention that."

Frigga’s brows rose very slightly. “My son, Thor? I have not heard him speak recently of this development.”

“Oh, yes,” Charles nodded, picking a champagne flute off of a serving tray, “he seemed quite passionate about it and all the good it can do. He has apparently been volunteering at one of late.”

“Altruism has never been one of my brother’s greatest assets,” Loki murmured, finally drawing his attention back to Charles again. “I had heard some connection with soup kitchens, but I had not realized he was working there as well.”

Frigga glanced at her youngest son, and then to Charles, “You’re quite certain it was Thor?”

“Unless you know of another tall, broad, blond who is following Tony Stark like a shadow,” Charles nodded.

"Oh yes, they've become quite good friends since Anthony's return from back East. Thor's been telling me how well it's going, showing Anthony around the city, getting him reacquainted if you will," Frigga replied with a smile.

“I would say quite good friends," Charles replied, arching an eyebrow. "After all he managed to get Tony to help at the kitchen as well.”

“I had heard those rumors that the young Mr. Stark had been seen giving food to the less fortunate, but did not believe them,” Frigga admitted, earning a laugh from Charles.

“That is exactly what I said.”

Loki’s lips drew into a thin line for a moment before he cleared his expression and offered a slight bow, “If you’ll excuse me, sir. Mother.”

Frigga nodded, waving him off, “I’m more than fine here, Loki. Go enjoy yourself.” As she turned back toward Charles to draw him into a further discussion of his own progress with his school in the poorer district of the city, Loki slipped away to drift circuitously toward Thor.

Fandral looked after Loki leaving, hands tight on the inside of his pocket but affecting a casual sprawl against the wall a few feet away from Frigga.

His gaze moved past Loki, to where Thor was being asked by a girl that barely came up to his collarbone and wearing a white beaded dress was asking him to dance. Loki's eyes narrowed as he stepped up behind the girl, smoothing out his brow as he spoke, startling her, "Tragically he's a very poor dancer, all he'll do is step on your feet, and ruin those lovely shoes you're wearing. Born with two left feet, our parents never knew _what_ to do with him because of it."

"Don't be foolish," Thor said, grinning at Loki before taking the girl's hands and sweeping her out onto the floor, moving in perfect beat to the slightly faster song than had been playing earlier.

Lip curling into a faint sneer, Loki took a glass from a passing server, sipping at it as he watched Thor. Only drawing his attention away long enough to tell a socialite in an unconscionably bright red dress exactly what it _didn't_ do for her complexion.

Thor tried not to stare at Loki as he danced, elegant and completely in control of every motion he made around the room. Loki met Thor's eyes every time the dance allowed it, knowing he couldn't cut into the dance for the position he actually wanted, but seriously considering taking the rest of the dance with the girl just so he wouldn't have to watch her with Thor.

When the song finally ended, Thor tried not to stare at his brother as he thanked the girl quite graciously, while she looked a little bit dazed. Leading her back to the edge of the floor, Thor blinked because Tony had drifted over to intercept him, which put him almost directly next to Loki. "You should not be allowed the dance," Tony said. "You make everyone else look bad. I suggest you not do it again."

"Do you," Thor said, amused and his eyes drifted back to Loki.

A brief look bordering between distaste and murder flickered over Loki's features at Tony's interruption but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, "Thor, I hear rumors of you working in a soup kitchen? And I hear them from the host of the party rather than my own brother? I'm dreadfully hurt."

"Are you?" Thor asked. "I thought nothing could pierce that armor of yours."

Tony looked as put out as Loki at not being the center of attention. "I don't believe we've met."

Loki looked Tony over from the top of his head to the toes of his very expensive shoes and then back up again before offering his hand, "Loki," and with the briefest of hesitations, "Odinson. And you're Anthony Stark. The friend my brother has been showing around town." His gaze darted toward Thor, hoping his brother at least would catch the hint in that sentence.

Thor inclined his head slightly. "Ah," Tony said. "Is it good to meet you?"

Loki offered him a faint, wry smile, "I suppose we shall have to see, shan't we?"

Tony's smile in reply was sharp. "We shall, won't we? Funny, it's like Thor has never talked about you."

"You say that as though he speaks of you often," Loki said, his answering smile a knife's edge.

"He's known me far less," Tony said and Thor shifted, looking between Loki and Tony as if realizing something.

"Is there something you wanted of me brother?"

Loki tilted his head slightly, looking at Tony down his nose for a moment before his attention shifted to Thor, "Nothing specific."

"Then perhaps if you'll excuse me," Thor said, starting to turn away.

"Have you somewhere more important to be, brother?" Loki asked, his tone sharper than he meant it to be.

"Do you not?" Thor asked, smoothing a hand over his tie.

Loki's eyes followed the motion, their color a near match for the fabric, before darting up to Thor's face and narrowing in recognition of exactly what his brother was doing, "In a room like this? Nothing more important to do here than to follow Mother or Od—our father around."

Tony blinked at that correction but decided not to comment on it yet.

"Perhaps you underestimate the potential in a room like this," Thor said.

"Or perhaps you overestimate it," Loki retorted. "Everyone here, or nearly everyone here, is dreadfully dull."

"I'm sure they would take offense to that," Tony said.

"Oh I'm quite sure they would," Loki agreed, with a dismissive shrug. "It doesn't make it any less true."

"I happen to volunteer at soup kitchens and make movies," Tony said. "What do you do?"

"Nothing," Loki said with a smile. "I'm simply a man about town."

"Why then should any man worry if you find them interesting?" Tony asked. "As you so clearly must not be."

Loki's lip curled in disgust at Tony and he seriously contemplated his proposal to Fandral of drowning the man in the nearest liquid more than an inch deep, "Clearly. Because wealth and status hold no sway on society whatsoever."

"Sway but not interest," Tony said.

Loki considered him again before drawling, "Charming. Wherever did you find him, Thor?"

"In a speak, to be honest," Thor said.

"Perhaps too honest, brother," Loki said, glancing at the people around them.

"No one is listening," Thor said.

"Or would be surprised," Tony added. "Besides, we all know exactly what is in those glasses, this is Xavier's house."

"Yes, but there's a difference between drinking here, where a person could delude themselves into the argument that it was in the wine cellar before the amendment was ratified, and going to a speakeasy in the less...expensive part of town," Loki said.

"Don't delude yourself, as if the police commissioner himself wasn't there at the time," Tony said, waving to another acquaintance of his father's idly.

"Deluding myself, hm." Loki's gaze drifted around the room and he marked where both Frigga and Odin were before turning back to Tony again, "Not the worst accusation I've heard, nor the most distasteful." He considered the proximity of the people nearest them before speaking again, "I hear rumors that you spoke with Laufey and his surviving heir recently."

"Have you?" Tony said and he was already drifting away from another conversation he suddenly had no interest in.

"Well, it would make sense. You being new blood with an older name and all."

Tony gave him a look over his shoulder and while he had been drifting away, suddenly he was shooting away like a comet. "Clever," Thor remarked, giving Loki a lingering look and bumping their shoulders together before following Tony.

Loki's smile to Thor was sharp at the edges and brittle but he nodded slightly, drifting back to Frigga's side for the time being, feeling far too ruffled to risk anything else.

Thor caught up to Tony when he reencountered Raven and Hank and Emma, Charles already seeming to move back over as if he sensed their convergence.

"So, I've decided I just have to ask, Tony," Raven started with a smile. "Do you surround yourself with blonds by accident or is it to make your dark hair appear more unique?"

"I don't need to make myself more unique," Tony said. "I already am. However if either of you lovely ladies would like to join my pack of blondes..."

"No thanks," Emma said with a sharp smile.

Raven laughed, the sound loud enough to cause a few people to look in her direction, "No, sorry, Tony."

"Too bad," he shrugged it off with a smile.

"I'm still curious about you and Rogers," Emma said, her white dress sparkling in the electric lights as she shifted. "You seem to react quite strongly to his mention."

"Do I?" Tony scoffed.

"Very," Charles said, tracing a finger along his temple to slide a loose piece of hair back into place.

"He's a stick in the mud," Tony said. "He's irritating."

Charles' brow arched, "From you, Tony, that's almost a glowing recommendation."

"Are you joking?" Tony looked at Charles.

"The second part, not the first," Charles amended.

"Irritating is only affectionate about you," Tony said sweetly.

"If you say so," Charles offered him a mild look.

"Charles, you're the only person I know who uses irritating as a consistent endearment," Raven pointed out.

"You've always done so too," Hank said. "When most people say, 'this person is irritating,' they don't actually mean I really like this person and am secretly amused by their antics. They mean they're angry."

"You know, I don't _always_ mean it that way," Charles protested.

Raven shrugged, "About eighty percent of the time you do though." She turned her attention back to Tony, "So, Rogers is an irritating stick-in-the-mud. Who you've apparently interacted with more than a couple times."

"Circumstances," Tony said, raising a hand.

"Yes, that's the only way I imagine him interacting with you too," Emma said. "I mean, honestly, how did those conversations even go?"

Tony breathed in shallowly, trying not to think about Steve with his shoulders tight sitting across from him and looking uncomfortable but warm in the restaurant. About the way his face was not expressive but his body language was. "He's really quite self-righteous," he said. "We mostly fought."

Charles' brow arched, thinking of someone he could describe that way himself, "He sounds absolutely charming."

"Okay, Charles, you have got to learn that irritating and charming mean exactly the opposite of what you take them to mean," Raven sighed.

"At this point? I don't think you can teach a dog new tricks," Tony said, wanting to pry and demand to know what Emma and Hank thought of Steve but refusing to debase himself that much. "So, Hank. I hear you're a do-gooder now. However did you manage to keep a moral compass intact living with Charles?"

"He has slightly more of one then you might think," Hank said after a beat, Emma watching Tony.

"It's not all a show, after all," Charles said, looking mildly insulted. "No one can lie that well about their morality."

"You could," Tony said.

"You think you can as well," Thor said from behind Tony's shoulder and he made a disgusted sound.

"Well, it's always worth a try," Charles said, looking Tony over for a long moment before shaking his head. "But no, I've rarely met someone who can actually hide who they are at their core."

"But honestly," Tony said, looking at Hank. "Why a cop? With a brain like yours you could be doing anything. You could probably get into any school across the country, and be doing great things. And instead you work for a shitty place like the police department?"

Hank narrowed his eyes, Emma tilting her head from where she still stood beside him. "At least I'm doing some good."

"You could be doing so much more if you applied yourself," Tony said. "You could be changing the world—"

"So could you," Hank snapped. "And instead you make movies. Is that so much better?"

Raven stared, wide-eyed at Hank for a long moment and Charles cleared his throat sharply, "Yes, well. You've both made your own decisions." His gaze flickered to Tony, "To some extent."

"Charles," Raven started, "you're offering platitudes again. Just stop."

"For once, it seems as if we are in agreement," Tony said, taking Raven's hand and kissing the back of it while Hank seemed to shrink into himself for a moment.

Raven drew her hand back, more quickly than she usually would have, not liking how Hank was responding to the exchange more than she cared to play even a mockery of social graces.

"That was too far," Hank said, more to himself then Tony, but Tony laughed and shrugged.

"It is hardly the worst thing anyone has ever said to me," he said, spreading his arms out. "It's already water under the bridge, McCoy."

"Does nothing phase you?" Raven asked, studying Tony with her arms crossed.

"No," he shrugged, looking slightly away. "What could possibly?"

"I'm sure something will eventually arise," Charles said, distractedly, his attention drifting to the room at large.

Tony stared, tight-jawed at Charles for a moment. "To hell with you, Charles, and your platitudes," he said, not turning and storming away so much as letting himself be swept along by the movement of people around the room.

"Congratulations, Charles," Raven murmured, "I think that's the angriest I've seen him at you."

"Yes, well, he's the one who asked what could possibly rattle him where I couldn't actually tell him," Charles replied, his sharp gaze following Tony through the crowd before he looked for Stane.

"So alienating him is the best way to go about it."

"Raven, you haven't the first idea of how Tony and I actually interact," Charles said.

"Perhaps, but he was quite angry," Hank said.

"So were you," Emma replied.

"What are the chances Tony will actually calm down?" Raven asked, glancing at Charles.

"Before the evening's out? Probably not high."

Emma watched Thor follow Tony, subtly but still noticeable. "Do you think you want to pester Steve about this?"

"I would certainly like to hear what he has to say on the issue," Hank said after a beat.

"If it's anything good, this is going to be more than a small disaster," Charles mused.

"Good because it amuses you, or if he has anything good to say about Tony?" Hank asked after a beat, always needing to know which way Charles was thinking.

"Good to say about Tony," Charles said, sounding progressively more distracted by the thought as he watched Tony move through the room.

Emma's eyes flickered from Tony to Charles and back to Hank, eyebrows rising for a moment. "I've been learning such interesting things tonight," she murmured, leaning against Hank's arm so only he would hear and Hank bit back a laugh.

Charles shook himself out of his musings and slid a well-practiced smile into place, "If you all will excuse me, I have a few other people I really should speak to."

"He is quite good at that, isn't he?" Emma remarked, watching him leave.

"The smile and pretend nothing's wrong at all as long as you didn't see him reacting a moment before? Sometimes to the point where you're not sure you saw him reacting a moment before?" Raven asked before nodding, "He is yes. It's a problem."

Hank sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is why I avoid these things, Raven."

"Oh, but it's very exciting," Emma said, leaning against his side still.

"And it's an excuse for us to see you," Raven added with a nod. "I'm glad you came, Hank."

"I suppose I am too then," Hank said.

A couple of hours later, the guests starting to consider actually leaving, Loki was trailing behind Odin rather than Frigga, having determined that playing the remaining dutiful son who didn't know the truth of his heritage meant he should probably follow his supposed father through conversations as well. He had an easier time around Frigga, he always had, but Odin's manner of dealing with people and the contacts he cultivated at galas like these were things Loki knew would be useful in coming months.

Odin folded his arms, standing a few steps in front of Loki, when he was confronted with Tony Stark and Thor. Tony had barely been paying attention, turning from picking a drink off a tray and directly into Odin. "Oh," Tony managed. "Hello. I'm surprised we haven't met more."

"Mr. Stane has been very concerned about keeping you protected," Odin replied. "Including avoiding any unsupervised encounters."

Loki looked Thor over, his gaze lingering on the knot of the tie resting against his brother's throat for a moment longer than could be considered polite and then turned his gaze to Tony, "I'm surprised he hasn't been at your side all evening."

"He is not my keeper and I am not his pet," Tony said, bristling.

"Who spoke of keepers and pets?" Loki asked, looking briefly offended at the mere terms, knowing the comparison Odin had drawn between him and Tony previously.

"You implied," Tony said. "That he would need to shepherd me around the party, which clearly, he did not."

"I implied that he would think he would need to," Loki corrected. "A subtle but important difference."

"Then he thinks of me as his pet, and the point stands," Tony said.

"Except it seems futile to argue that point when the person who thinks it isn't standing here," Loki said, darting a brief glance toward Odin to check his response to the exchange.

Odin had remained standing with his arms crossed, a tiny smile on his face. "You are singularly irrelevant, aren't you?" he said and Tony tensed again. Loki blinked once at that, tensing as well and trying not to stare at Odin.

"Irrelevant?" Tony asked, smile tight.

"Perhaps that is the wrong word," Odin shrugged. "After all, you managed to meddle quite a bit in our affairs already, by insisting on taking Thor in. You put yourself into quite a dangerous position did you not?"

"Dangerous?" Tony laughed and Odin narrowed his eyes.

Loki blinked twice at Tony, "You've set yourself opposite Laufey, and you've taken in someone who Father," he managed the title without a hesitation, "has cast out. Yes, rather a dangerous position."

Thor's eyes flickered over to Loki and he suppressed a smile in the pause before Tony started laughing again. "Dangerous?" he repeated. "You and Laufey are _fossils_ , Odin. You are the irrelevant ones now in the new world order."

Odin took a step forward. "Excuse me?"

"You," Tony said, tossing his head back. "Are old. You've gotten so comfortable with your world order, you don't even realize how fragile it is. You and Laufey."

"And you think you could possibly create, what, a new order?" Odin asked, taking a step forward and towering over Tony, who only titled his chin back.

"Perhaps," he said.

Loki paled ever so slightly at Tony's words, his glance darting from Thor to Tony and then to Odin and back to Tony, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes I do," Tony said, not looking away from Odin. "You are so obsessed with your low grade war with Laufey, you've forgotten the whole point of this business is to make profit. You're relying on your old money, not making new money. It's a wonder anyone is loyal to you anymore. You're the old world, not the new realities of the underworld. You're warehouses are exposed, your people underpaid, and you're banking on old loyalties and that people fear you. But when have you honestly done anything scary recently?"

"I could take you down," Odin growled.

"No, the sad thing is even after all of this, you're still too obsessed with Laufey," Tony said. "You're going to try and take him down and then come for me. Only, I'll be all the more powerful and you'll be all the more weak."

The more Tony spoke the more Loki was caught between complete shock and contemplation of what the other was actually saying, "Until you make yourself too pointed a target."

"I'll take my chances," Tony said, a tiny smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Did you tell Laufey this same thing?" Loki asked, darting a glance at Thor and wondering if he would have to increase his timeline again in the hope of keeping his brother alive.

"Not in so many words," Tony said. "Thor, we're done here I think."

"I will gut you," Odin said.

"I'll take my chances," Tony replied.

"I am interested to see you try," Odin admitted as Tony sauntered away.

Loki watched them go with wide eyes, murmuring, "He actually believes everything he just said."

"Then he is but a fool," Odin said, turning away. "Fetch your mother. We are leaving now."

Loki nodded once and turned to find Frigga, only for her to appear at Odin's side, sliding her hand into the crook of her husband's left arm, "I'm here. We have been here long enough."

"Yes," Odin agreed, his right hand moving to cover hers. With a few parting words to their host, they departed, Loki to his own apartment, hoping that his brother might go there once Stark sent him away for the night.

o-o-o

It was well after midnight by the time the last of the guests departed and Charles knew his chances of moving from his bed the next day were slim, especially if he didn't want to deal with his wheelchair. The climb up the stairs to his rooms was daunting, but with a firmly dismissive good-night to Raven he made it up without his leg giving out on him. Entering the sitting room of his suite he shrugged out of his evening jacket, leaning against the wall to do so, and started loosening his tie as he limped toward his bedroom. He came to a complete stop as he realized that the light on in the bedroom was not because he had done it, or a courteous servant had, but because of the man sitting at his ease in the room. Blue eyes narrowed, and tone flat, Charles spoke from the door, his hand gripping his cane as though it was the only thing holding him up, "What are you doing here?"

Erik looked up from the book he had been reading. "Waiting for you, presumably."

"Months. You've been gone for months. And you show up without a word tonight?" Charles tried to keep the bite out of his tone at that, but knew he failed as he limped over to his dressing table and leaned his good hip against it, carefully untangling his tie and starting on the buttons of his shirt and vest.

"You should already be in bed," Erik said, suddenly moving to his feet in one fluid motion.

"The last of the guests only just left," Charles said, watching Erik in the mirror as he undid his cufflinks.

"Then you should not have pushed yourself," Erik said, wandering closer. "It is a bad habit you have."

"I had a house full of socialites, I was not using the chair tonight," Charles grit out, managing to shrug out of his shirt and vest without off-balancing.

Erik came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Charles' waist. "At least sit down and I can help you with the rest."

Charles stiffened slightly at the touch before relaxing back against Erik, "You've been gone a long time."

"I'm not quite sorry," Erik murmured, but he pressed his face into the side of Charles' neck and held on. "And you know I am not sorry."

"I know," Charles spoke quietly, his eyes slipping closed. "You timed your arrival right. I'm too tired to even be angry about it right now. How long will you stay this time?"

"I don't know yet," Erik said. "A while, I hope."

"It better be," Charles said, opening his eyes again and straightening. "Help me over to the bed so I can finish getting changed?"

"Why get changed?" Erik asked after a beat.

That earned an upward twitch of Charles' lips, "Undressed then."

"Yes," Erik agreed, pulling Charles gently with him. "I have missed you."

Charles leaned most of his weight on Erik and let himself be helped to the side of the bed. Sinking down on the mattress, he offered the other man a faint smile, "I missed you as well. It's been too long."

Erik shrugged rather than comment on how long it had been and why he had been gone. "And was society sparkling tonight?"

"Society was," Charles paused, grimacing as he worked to get his slacks off, "almost confusing tonight actually."

"Confusing," Erik repeated, as if he was surprised by that.

"Yes," Charles nodded. "Tony Stark was more than an hour late, and apparently Odin's eldest is helping in soup kitchens now."

"The tall and blond one?" Erik asked with a tiny smile.

Charles smiled, "Yes, that's right. He's been in Tony's company rather a lot recently."

"And the young Stark is back in town," Erik said. "How are you handling that?" he pulled the rest of Charles' clothes off, not being slow but still gentle.

Charles lay back against the pillows, "It is good to have him back in town, but I worry for him."

"Isn't it enough to worry for yourself?" Erik asked.

"Oh probably. But I don't think he knows how obvious he can be."

"A shockingly stupid trait for your society," Erik said, climbing into the bed and stretching his long frame alongside Charles.

"Even more when I think he may be spending part of his attention on an attractive man," Charles said, turning his head to look at Erik, a smile twitching around his lips.

"Spending his attention on an attractive man?" Erik asked with an amused huff. "Clearly you would know nothing about that."

Charles laughed very slightly, "No, nothing at all."

"What sort of attention is it?" Erik asked.

"He called him a stick-in-the-mud, irritating, and self-righteous. Said they mostly fought. Based on what I know of Tony? Or can guess? He's attracted to him," Charles murmured.

"Will he act on something like that?" Erik asked, mostly to keep Charles talking then any real desire to know.

"Maybe. I don't know. I half hope not." He reached out and traced a hand along Erik's collarbone, "The other man's a police officer."

"That would not complicate things at all would it?" Erik said, tilting his chin.

Charles arched an eyebrow, "I hope you're being sarcastic."

"Not necessarily," Erik said. "It would complicate things."

"It could get him arrested. Admittedly it's not the worst thing that could get him arrested, but it could nevertheless."

Erik shook his head. "Your strays are as stupid as you are."

Charles' lips twitched into a small smile, "Tony would resent you calling him that."

"As you do not," Erik said, twining his fingers into Charles' hair.

Charles tilted his head into that touch, "No, no I really don't. I've long since resigned myself to my stupidity."

"I noticed," Erik said, trailing his other hand across Charles' chest.

"I would hope you had, considering how long I've resigned myself to it," Charles said, resting a hand against Erik's cheek before leaning over to kiss him. Erik gave a sharp smile against Charles' mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all our readers who are still with us for you patience. Life got away from us. Hope you enjoyed the update!


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